Subject X
by daziyly
Summary: Brick Johnson has worked at his department in Hines Science for nearly 8 years. He preferred his life of little variety, devoted to his job. But when he is assigned to deal with an unknown alien, called "Subject X", his life suddenly changes, rapidly.
1. For The Love of Routine

Brick Johnson lived a comfortable life. Every weekday he followed the same routine; wake up at 6:15, set the coffee, shower, have oatmeal, brush his teeth, wash his face, gel back his hair, and leave for work at the laboratory. Very rarely was he given the big, secret projects at Hines Science, but he had preferred it that way. He preferred dealing with medicines, and bacteria, though his specialty was on the stranger side of the spectrum.

But, this way, he could keep his order. Brick was very particular about his life—anything different was unwanted, frightening. He was observing a strange strand of bacteria when Ms. Black, the vice president of the facility stormed in, demanding to see him.

"Ms. Black, am I allowed to ask what this is for?"

"You are allowed," she said, continuing to walk at her incredibly fast speed towards the elevator.

"What is this for?" he asked, trying to keep up. When she didn't respond, he repeated his question.

"I didn't say you would get an answer, Johnson,"

The elevator ride was almost in complete silence—until Brick realized they were going further and further underground.

"You are the most qualified for this job, Johnson,"

"I'm not looking for a promotion," he said quickly, not exactly liking where this was going.

She turned to face him directly, her eyes the colour of her last name, almost soulless. Her hair was pulled back in an unflattering bun, the roots of her hair a dark gray that progressed into a bright, magenta red, "Dr. Johnson. I am aware you chose to waste away your career in the most pathetic branch of Hines Science, but eight years ago you signed a contract. It's either you accept this job, _for the good of your country,_ or you can pack up your things and leave,"

At that moment, Brick very much considered leaving. But he made the split decision to stay, arguing that losing his job would be a greater change than whatever was about to happen. When they elevator doors opened, they were greeted by what everyone in Brick's branch referred to as The Slick, Butch Jenkins. He had no purpose being in Hines Science, but his father was a large contributor to the size of Hines Science, and therefore Butch was to be treated with the utmost respect.

"She's sedated; it was the only way we could get her to the examining room. Three of your men are in the infirmary,"

Ms. Black waved at him impatiently, "Replaceable. _He's_ the one we need," she said, referring to Brick as though he couldn't hear her. Slick looked at him with contempt; clearly he didn't like the thought of anyone else being considered important.

"Him?" he spat.

"Yes, him," she replied, "he's the most intelligent employee we have, perhaps the most intelligent in the United States, according to his test scores and work reports. He's perfect, and very valuable,"

Brick felt the need to deny this, but something told him he wasn't necessarily a part of the conversation.

"Did you call in the zoo keeper?" she asked.

"Yes, he prefers to be called Animal Specialist,"

Immediately Brick knew who they were talking about. When he first began work at Hines Science, he had started in that department. It wasn't to his liking.

"I'll be working alongside Dr. Boomer Jameson?"

His question seemed to snap Ms. Black back to reality, she looked at him with slight confusion before replying, "Not really, no. He'll just be there to help,"

_Help with what?_ He was about to ask, but he soon realized they had arrived. They were situated in front of a large, metal door, with a series of locks and scanners positioned all around it. After a few minutes, it moved upwards and Brick finally saw what he would be working with.

In the middle of the room, surrounded by computers, medical equipment and scientific equipment, atop a metal operating bed, lay a woman—or, at first glance, what he thought to be a woman. Her skin was porcelain white, a large contrast to her fiery red hair, which cascaded off the edges of the bed. She almost didn't look real. As he neared, he noticed the dried blood from long, thin cuts that he presumed were from a whip, though he couldn't figure out why she would have been whipped. Her face was bruised and she had been tied down with a black looking metal.

"Isn't she magnificent?" Ms. Black said, her face portraying an emotion of pure satisfaction, "A pure mystery, too, Dr. Johnson, that you are expected to solve,"

"Me? On my own? Ms. Black, I'm not certain I'm qualified…"

She cut him off with a raise of her hand, "You will be provided with whatever you ask for. We even asked that zoo keeper to help you analyze _what_ exactly she is. You have one year to find out what she is while she is still alive before you can euthanize her and perform an autopsy. Over there on the clipboard is what we already know. At night, she is to be placed back in to her containment tube, and you may sedate her as often as required. And believe me, that will be often. Good luck,"

Brick couldn't get a word in edgewise. He sighed dejectedly and walked over to the clipboard.

* * *

><p><strong>SUBJECT 'X'<strong>

**SPECIES: UNKNOWN**

**AGE: UNKNOWN (Presumed to be around twenty human years)**

**GENDER: UNKNOWN (Strong indications that it is female)**

**LANGUAGE: UNKNOWN (Presumed to be mute)**

**HOME PLANET: UNKNOWN (Presumed to be from the Andromeda Galaxy)**

**APPEARANCE: Light pink eyes, bright red, lengthly hair. About 5'7'', lean build. Long eyelashes, sharp cheekbones. Porcelain skin. **

**SPECIAL NOTES:**

**Day One- Subject X is completely unresponsive. Her wounds from the crash in New Mexico have seemed to heal. Estimated healing time: 2 hours. All attempts to remove her skin coloured body suit while unconscious failed.**

**Day Two- Subject X is still completely unresponsive. **

**Day Three- Subject X seemed to show interest in Dr. Evans' pink pen. The interest was slight and disappeared after one second. **

**Day Four- Subject X seems to be immune to shock therapy. Suggest more physical attempts. **

**Day Five- Subject X has been sedated for the first time. Dr. Evans attempted to trim it's hair, due to the fact that it had been interfering with the examination. Subject X, out of fear it is assumed, replied by snapping Dr. Evans' hand in half. During sedation, it's hair was cut just above it's shoulders. Upon waking, it was expected to react in a similar rage. Instead, it looked at it's shorter hair, ran it's fingers through it a few times. It seemed confused. It's confusion quickly progressed into a large depression. Spent the remainder of the day lying against the wall, refusing to return to it's cot. **

**Day Six- Subject X is still melancholy, presumably about the loss of it's hair. Attempts to cheer it up with more pink pens were doomed to failure, though it managed to sigh sadly at them. **

**Day Seven- Subject X finally responded to the food placed in front of it. It did not react to any of the foods. Due to the previous Visitors from the Andromeda Galaxy's similar reaction to Earth Food, it is now presumed it is from that Galaxy as well. **

**Day Eight- Subject X was given a glass of water to which it responded by drinking eagerly. This continued after eight glasses. Further adds to the presumption it is from the Andromeda Galaxy. Planet is still unknown. **

**Day Nine- Subject X has grown back most of it hair, though it does not trail down it's back as it did before. Subject smiled at the return of Dr. Evans, again, for only a second. **

**PLEASE NOTE: Subject X seems to understand if she is about to be put in a negative situation and responds accordingly.**

* * *

><p><em>Great.<em> Brick thought.

"I'm assuming you're Dr. Johnson," a deep voice called from behind him.

"The zookeeper," he said with a smirk at the blonde boy staring at him seriously, "We worked together a few years ago,"

"I remember," he said coldly. Apparently he didn't appreciate jokes, "I took a sample of her blood…it is reminiscent of the Rathenio-Potint Species, though there are a few major differences,"

"Rathenio-Potint?" he asked, confused.

"An alien species living on a planet they call Ganda, in the Andromeda Galaxy,"

"You said…_her_,"

"Looks like a female to me," he shrugged, "Regardless; there are a few major differences. Though I realize why they called her subject X"

"Differences? Such as?"

"Well, for one thing, her blood contains black cells…in the shape of an X,"

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note: Okay, a couple of things. For one, I don't know a lot about science or alien species. So maybe I am not the best person to write this story, but I will try to leave the science component out of it as much as possible. Regarding the alien species and planets, I think it's obvious this is a government facility that has had it's share of alien encounters, particularly with the Andromeda Galaxy (whose name I am a large fan of, thus my reasoning for choosing it). For another, I don't know anything about government facilities either. So in summary, a lot of the things are MADE UP. I repeat, MADE UP. If you can leave helpful comments about the ACTUAL facts, without flaming our outright insulting my intelligence, that would be wonderful. As well, I am currently IN SCHOOL. Therefore, updates will not be as fast as my last PPG story, but I promise they will be long. Unless of course you don't like the idea. And in that case, it'll probably get deleted. If you thought Brick was OCC in the beginning, he slightly is. He's more of the female Blossom in that half, though he becomes more Brick-like as we know him as the story progresses. And no, the boys are not related. And no, they're not all good friends. Sorry.<em>**


	2. Trials of Change

Brick sighed. This all seemed too much for him.

_Why me? Out of all the scientists, why pick me to work on this?_

"I don't understand how we can discover anything without an autopsy," he said at last.

Dr. Jameson shot him a cold look. It was a well known fact that any Animal Specialist, let alone the head of the department was against animal, or in this case, alien cruelty, "Why? Obviously she's not stupid, or else she wouldn't have been able to arrive here. Do you think she intends to harm Earth? Why only send one, then? Or if she is not alone, why has it been two months and there has been no one attempting to bring her back?" his tone was a lot harsher than Brick would have expected the blonde, blue eyed man to be.

"Look Jameson, I'm just trying to do this job the best I can,"

"You just started and you're already talking about giving up," he spat. He took a moment, as if to calm himself, before he began to speak again, "Look. Animals…they're like little kids. You need to give them respect, and talk to them kindly if you want them to cooperate. And if they get out of hand, if they're stubborn, you need to be stern but not cruel. That's where they've been all wrong. They've been treating her like she's some sort of monster, like she's some sort of idiot. That's why she's not responding,"

After a while, Brick sighed exasperatedly, "Fine. If…if you really think that, then its not going to be happy about waking up attached to a cold operating table," against his better judgement, Brick released the restraints. Immediately, X's body seemed to visibly relax. Brick pulled out his yellow pad and began to make notes about its breathing patterns, and how every so often its right thumb would twitch.

Around noon, Boomer had left the room to take his first lunch break, and Brick was left alone with Subject X.

When it first woke up, he was faced towards the microscope on the far end of the room, observing its blood cells. It hadn't made a sound when it had woken, so Brick nearly shouted at the sight of it sitting up on the operating table.

It paid him no attention as he carefully walked over; as though it was a gazelle and he was a lion hunting its prey. Even standing right in front of it, it did not respond to him, and Brick seriously began to doubt it had any intelligence at all. Its eyes were cast down, as though it was focused on his feet and not on his face. Eventually, its eyes slowly moved up to meet his chocolate brown, tired eyes.

His breath caught in his throat. He had read reports and seen pictures, all attempting to describe just what shade of pink its eyes were. None of them had described its eyes correctly. None had spoken about the intensity; the awe behind them. It seemed to look at him with a child like wonder.

He blinked, once, twice, to try and get his head thinking straight. He soon remembered what Boomer had told him, and so he took a shot in the dark, "Uh…hello," he said, feeling awkward.

It stared at him; the look it gave him reminded Brick of a confused dog tilting his head. After a few minutes of silence, Brick was ready to leave, cursing Boomer for his stupid ideas.

"Hello," it responded. Its voice was velvety smooth and womanly—at that moment he had no doubt she was a female—Brick was aghast. How it had learned their language, how it was able to understand him was not within the walls of his knowledge.

"You can speak?" he asked, hoping it would be able to answer. It merely smiled at him. If it was capable of speech more than that, it wasn't ready to let him know. When Dr. Jameson returned, Brick couldn't help but look smug at the fact that he had discovered something that Dr. Jameson had not.

"You're kidding," he said, placing down his mug of coffee and wiping his hands on his lab coat, his eyes on Subject X the entire time.

"Do I strike you as the type who _kids_, Jameson?"

Boomer narrowed his eyes, "No, you strike me as an asshole,"

Brick decided to let that comment slide, mostly because he admired Jameson' gall.

Boomer loomed over Brick's shoulder as he walked up to Subject X again, who continued to look at him as though it was seeing him for the first time, "Hello," he said again.

It smiled at him, obviously enjoying the fact that he spoke to it as though they were old friends, "Hello," it replied, sounding excited.

"Holy shit," Boomer said, taking a few steps back and running his hands through his hair, breaking the stiff appearance the gel he wore gave it, "We have to get Black," he said, after a while.

Subject X seemed to sense the tension in the room, as the sparkle in its eyes faded quickly. Noticing this, Brick realized that much about Subject X seemed to remind him of a child, of course in no way negatively. At the mention of Ms. Black, X took on the appearance of a young child about to be scolded. It was subtle, as though it allowed itself to have emotional reactions when it believed nobody was looking.

He felt insane for giving what initially seemed like a simplistic creature so much credit, and deducted that he was simply imagining these things, since he was so desperate to discover something about the alien. Besides, it wasn't as if the scientists who had been studying it for a little over three months would not have attempted to observe it without its knowledge.

When Ms. Black appeared, Brick felt a trickle of doubt ripple throughout his body when asked to repeat what had just happened. He suddenly wasn't sure if X would perform the same way it had for Boomer and himself, and then Black would reprimand him for wasting her time.

Unlike many of the other employees of his—and lower—stature at Hines Management, Brick did not have an opinion over Ms. Black. He knew it was arrogant of him to think so, but he was well aware that the only reason Ms. Black was his boss and not the other way around, was because of his specific requests against a management position.

After he first graduated from university, he had been immediately hired at a pharmaceutical company as a supervisor…it did not end well.

Furthermore, while he hated the thought of losing his job, he knew there was a slim chance she would fire him unless he deliberately disobeyed her orders. And again, Brick would never in a million years disobey corporate demands. He wasn't in the slightest intimated by the stoic woman known as Ms. Black, which others often presumed depicted the colour of her soul and heart.

Brick's anxiety exploded, and he insisted to be the one to coax X to speak again, in fear that it would not do so for Ms. Black. When he leaned down to be at its eye-level, he couldn't help but notice that it looked at him as though he had betrayed it in the coldest way. He tried to plead with it through his own eyes, but instantly felt stupid.

"Hello," he managed, after Ms. Black told him to speed it along.

The minute in which she took to respond felt like the longest minute in Brick's life. He could feel Ms. Black's cold eyes on the back of his neck, "Hello," she responded, not quite as excited as the first two times. He sighed a breath of relief, and turned to face Ms. Black, only to see that the look on her face did nothing to continue to calm him.

She was smiling, but it was a scary, thin-lipped smile. Her eyes glistened with malice, "Excellent job, gentlemen. You can take the rest of the day off,"

Boomer's face and body was stiff, as he muttered a 'thanks', and walked off briskly. His behaviour was strange, but Brick did not think too much of it. He stood in the room a little while longer, until Ms. Black finished her phone call, describing what just happened.

"Yes, of course we'll start phase two immediately," she said, irritated, "I expect them to be here in less than ten minutes," she hung up, and rubbed her hands in anticipation. Once noticing that Brick was still in the room, she dropped her hands and moved her cool gaze off of X and onto Brick.

"Did I not say you could have the rest of the day off?" she said, no emotion at all.

"It's one o'clock. I normally work until seven pm," he stated, not wanting to leave for fear of ruining his daily schedule even more.

"Well then you are very welcome. Didn't your mother teach you not to take your gifts for granted?" Her words seemed childish, but there was a great deal of venom beneath them.

"My mother died before she could," he shot back.

She offered no sympathetic response, "If you're going to stay, you might as well make yourself useful and sedate it,"

He sighed, silently grateful at being allowed to stay home. It was bad enough that he no longer worked in his division, but to have different hours would be unbearably difficult to get used to. He walked over to the counter that held all the sedating medicine, and filled up a syringe to the brim as he had been instructed.

Just before injecting Subject X, to Ms. Black's surprise did not resist Brick's attempts, he looked it in the eyes one last time. They seemed to beg him not to; as though it knew its fate once it woke, even though Brick did not. The look remained once he injected it, and it gave him a strange feeling as he watched it struggle to stay awake before it could no longer fight it and fell back down on the operating table.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note: Please let me know if you think my characters are acting a bit to childishly for a character in their late twenties. This age frame is out of my comfort zone, but without trying new things you can't ever grow. Please review! Means a lot.<em>**

_**Dear "awful",**_

_**I am deeply sorry that my story did not meet your standards. I was crushed to discover that the sole person I wrote this for (you) did not like my first chapter. As well, I am sorry that my interpretation of Brick was not hardcore enough for you, and if you wish to continue reading, I can assure you that I will do my best to make him as you described. To prove my promise, I have attached an excerpt of the revised first chapter:**_

Brick Johnson lived a hardcore lief, because he was hard core. every day was differnt and unpredfictable because brick was a criminal. he didnt have a job because he was a bada** and things. one day he was walking to work, jsut kdding he doesnt really work, and he punched a turtle in the face just because he could then he started to fly because he could and he met blossom and they kissed and then he had to fight a dinosaur and he resuced blossom and then they kissed again and brick and blossom satrted to date but he still punched turtles in the face.

'brick stop punching turltes in the face' blsoom said

'no brick said

**_I hope that is better. I did my best to match your impeccable writing abilities, as shown in your comment. In regards to your last critique, I am afraid I must correct you. My cat reads my every chapter before I upload it on this website, and she said that she liked it, so I suppose I will have to fire her and search for a replacement. Thank you for your comment.  
><em>**_  
><strong>SweetHeartCandy - I'm so sorry! I really wanted to try something completely alternate, but I am glad you support it anyway!<strong>_

_**Summer Jonium- Don't worry about it! Thanks so much!**_

_**MindlessChey- *fills plate***_

_**amythist7- Thank you! Really glad you like it.**_

_**dickory5**__** - Woo! That's the kind of stuff I like to hear. I'm glad you do!**_


	3. Stab of Betrayal

That night, Brick didn't sleep very well. He felt haunted by the look in Subject X's eyes moments before he injected it with the heavy duty tranquilizer. When he arrived at his new work space, he was surprised to find that Subject X was not lying on the operating table.

At first he felt panic, and he was certain he had sent it to its death. After a few minutes, however, he felt frustrated and light-headed. This was yet another change in his daily schedule. He walked over to Dr. Jameson, who was looking into a microscope in the far right of the room.

"What happened?" he said, after staring at Dr. Jameson's neck for awhile.

Dr. Jameson jumped slightly before turning around, "What are you..? Oh. She's suspended in her containment tube. Something about being extremely uncooperative,"

He must have looked concerned because Dr. Jameson took on a more sympathetic tone, "It's for her own good. Besides, it's better for her,"

"What are you looking at?"

"Some of her tissue. It's healing process is much faster than anything I've ever seen before. Thin, white wisps shoot out and heal cuts. It doesn't heal bruises, though,"

"Really? How so?"

"Regularly with humans, upon injury to the skin, a set of complex biochemical events takes place in a closely orchestrated cascade to repair the damage. But her inflammatory, proliferative and remodeling phases take much less time. A wound that would normally take thirty days to heal can be healed in as little as thirty minutes, depending on the size,"

"Fascinating. Its species must have a surplus of fibroblasts as well as endothelial cells, particularly fast ones as well,"

"Yes, I'm trying to narrow down what it is exactly that helps speed her process of healing. It seems as though the remodeling phase is quite different from ours, however. Her wounds don't leave scars,"

"I wonder if it feels any pain during injuries, or if that factor is eliminated entirely, since it heals so quickly,"

"How do you propose we test that?" His eyes narrowed and his voice became cold.

There was a part of Brick, the more dominant, scientific and heartless side, that wanted to poke and pry at Subject X while she was attached to sensors. A smaller part of him, one that of course he would never admit to having, felt ashamed for this thought of cruelty.

But he was a scientist. And scientists are supposed to learn, to help the greater good! If he could find out what it was that made it the way it was could help so many people.

"Well, Dr. Johnson?"

"I suppose we cannot," he said quietly.

_Or rather, you cannot._

He felt devious going behind Johnson's back, but this must have been the purpose they were studying the creature. To find out how it works and to be able to utilize its powers to serve humanity, to help humans heal.

Without the sight of it there, it was easy to forget its sad eyes as it fell back weakly against the operating table the day before. His mind was rushing at the possibilities her blood cells could bring.

More importantly, his mind became excited at the thought of finishing the project and going back where he belonged. He mumbled a pathetic excuse to Jameson, who seemed glad to return to his studies, though confused and Brick's abruptness, and stepped out into the hallway, ready to call for Ms. Black.

Slick met him at the elevators, chattering away in his Bluetooth, completely ignoring Brick's presence, though it had been Brick who called him down.

An exasperated sigh was all it took for him to grab Butch's attention.

"What's that, nerd?"

Despite knowing that he should treat him better, Brick wanted nothing more than to put the trust fund baby in his place.

"Are we in high school?"

He seemed appalled.

"Listen, I can tell we don't like each other,"

_You must be a genius._

"But you're important to Ms. Black, and I'm important to this company. Let's say we avoid each other as much as possible and we avoid creating a…_mess_,"

"Surprised to hear something intelligent from you, Jenkins,"

"Last one you get, ever, Johnson,"

Brick smirked. He had underestimated Butch. They rode to the top floor in silence, which to Brick was better than hearing Butch chatter off in his Bluetooth.

He repressed a shudder. This job was not boding well with him. Flashback to a few weeks ago, and Brick Johnson would have never dared to speak to someone, let alone a superior, that rudely.

"Oh excellent, yes, I knew you would be useful eventually," she seemed to be talking more to herself than to anyone else.

Brick had never seen so much light flare up in the endlessly dark eyes that belonged to Ms. Black when he had suggested his idea.

"Now, the trouble is," she said, as if suddenly realizing she had shown emotion, "can I trust you to lead the project?"

"What? I, uh, of course you can. Why not?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, fine. Play dumb. Fact of the matter is I don't trust you right now. But, you'll certainly be rewarded,"

"I'd rather not have any more breaks," he said quickly.

"No, no, I wouldn't _dream_ of it," she said sarcastically, "I'll tend to your little workaholic side. I'll treat you with full reports of the progress,"

He nodded briskly. In truth, he was excited. He would be doing a noble cause for society.

Yes, that's what this was. A noble cause.

* * *

><p>"Listen, Brick," It had been a few days since they had begun the pain response tests on Subject X. Brick had avoided telling Jameson about the proceedings occurring on Subject X, though he had never been ordered not to.<p>

"Yeah Jameson?" he had not felt very comfortable calling him by his first name.

He ran his hand across his smooth gel-filled hair, slightly embarrassed, "The wife at home is getting grumpy about how much time I'm spending at work. Ms. Black's got me doing busy work all day and then I'm supposed to watch over X throughout the night. The only time I come home is for lunch, basically, and our off day on Thursday,"

Brick nodded. Was there a point to what Dr. Jameson was saying, or was he just attempting to make conversation?

"So I was wondering if you wouldn't mind picking up my night shifts…I mean, unless you've got a family too,"

Brick shook his head. He knew part of him should be offended that Boomer had assumed that Brick had no one to go home to, but if it had been reversed, he probably would have assumed the same.

"There's uh, there's no extra pay though,"

It would suit his schedule whether he was paid for it or not. Brick had all the money he needed to survive comfortably, and he had never been one to indulge in luxuries. There was no need for more money.

He attempted a smile, but it was close lipped and he knew it looked negative, "That's fine, sure,"

"Great!" he grinned, "Why don't you come over for dinner this Thursday? I'd love for you to meet the family,"

"Uh, sure,"

He felt instantly awkward. Jameson nodded excitedly, and turned back to his work. Brick had generally avoided socialization since his graduation from college. He had decided a long time ago that it was unnecessary and he would do just fine without it.

Besides, he was awful at it. The night of the dinner he had considered calling in sick, but decided against it, dubbing it rightfully childish.

Jameson's house was beautiful, much more extravagant than Brick's small loft downtown. He house had a wraparound porch, and four rose bushes in the front. It was painted a light blue, the windows accented white and the wood of the porch a natural colour. It was very quaint and painfully reminded Brick of his childhood.

A woman answered the door. Despite recently finding out Jameson was married; he was still shocked to see her there. Her hair was a light blonde, wrapped around in a tight French bun. Her face was soft, accented by her sweep away bangs and she was clad in a light blue dress and black heels, the style of which was unknown to Brick.

She smiled at him, "You must be Brick Johnson!" she said excitedly, taking the wine he held in his hands. He remembered going to dinners with his parents, the words of his mother ringing in his head, _'Never go to someone else's house empty handed._'

"Yes, you must be Dr. Jameson's wife,"

"I'm Bubbles," she nodded.

_What a ridiculous name._ He thought,but did not comment. Her beauty and light nature made up for the juvenile name. He assumed it must be a nickname. No parent in their right mind would name a child that.

When Boomer showed up, Brick felt instantly overdressed. He was wearing white linen pants and a blue button down, while Brick was dressed in a grey suit and red dress shirt. Nobody seemed to care, either way.

"Brick! So glad you could make it. This is my wife, Bubbles, as you probably know by now,"

Two blonde heads came running down the stairs, dressed similarly to Boomer.

"These are the twins, David and Damian,"

"Hello," they said simultaneously. The giggle they produced afterward made Brick think their greeting was something they had practiced.

"Oh, I, uh, I didn't know you had kids, I, uh, I would have-,"

Bubbles cut him off, "Nonsense! That's not necessary. This wine you brought is more than enough,"

He nodded awkwardly.

"Mu-om!" Boomer sent one of the twins a glare. He lowered his gaze and dropped the whiny tone, "David is kicking me," he said, halfway through the dinner.

Brick smirked. He assumed Boomer had talked to his family about being on their best behaviour…for _him._

"David," Bubbles said sternly. It was all the twins needed to lower their heads and eat in silence.

The small talk was brutal. While the food was delicious and Brick very well knew how to behave at dinner, he still was dreadfully awkward at simple social actions.

"Thank you very much for spending your dinner with us. And…thank you, for taking Boomer's night shift," Bubbles said, once he was leaving.

He nodded briskly, like he had been doing the entire evening, feeling self-conscious underneath her kind gaze. They said their goodbyes and Brick was finally on his way home.

He felt strange after the dinner. It was something he had not experienced in a long time. The dinner, thankfully, passed by quickly and smoothly. He found himself slightly amused at the machine-like way they went through their typical dinner ritual, as though they were one.

_A family._

He shook his head and drifted into sleep. These were things that were best if he did not focus on them.

* * *

><p><p>

Brick generally avoided being around when Subject X was brought in for her routine checkup. He would go into the floor's break room and read the new file handed to him by one of the men. This time, however, there were no new results. So he had no excuse to leave.

They lifted Subject X off the stretcher and placed it on the cold metal table. Jameson immediately went to work, and Brick stood in the corner awkwardly.

It looked very different since the last time he saw it outside of the tube. That was weeks ago. Its skin held a grayish tinge, the same way a dead body would. He pushed the thought away. Jameson began his typical checkup, looking at vitals and checking her pulse, before telling the men they could place her into the containment tube.

This checkup marked the end of the day for Boomer and he began to remove his lab coat. A few moments later, he heard the familiar sound of Subject X being transferred into its containment tube.

"Well, I'm off. But there's something I've got to ask you,"

Brick nodded for him to continue.

"They aren't telling me anything. You wouldn't happen to know where they take X, would you?"

The way he asked the question was almost as if he already knew. Jameson had become comfortable talking to Brick about the simple things since he had invited Brick over for dinner.

Things Brick often had no response to_, _about his children, or his wife, or sports. He usually answered vaguely, and it was enough for Boomer to keep talking.

But this was different. Brick had a perfect response to his question. Regularly, he would have answered quickly and without hesitation. This time, he found himself worried at Jameson's response. He had gotten used to listening to him blabber on, and he knew this would place a ridge between them. And that would be yet another switch in his schedule.

_That's all this is. I don't want to have to deal with another change._

He pinched the bridge of his nose, the latest vigil he kept had had him up until three in the morning, and his loss of sleep was beginning to catch up with him.

"It is being tested,"

"Of course she's being tested, but I meant _how_?"

"Pain response,"

"Wait, what? Brick…you didn't," Brick had no response, "I can't believe this," he hissed, "you're no better than they are,"

"Who are you talking about?"

"The suits, dammit! You come here out of nowhere thinking you're a genius and you'll figure this out in no time, whatever they're looking for, you'll get it done. Well, Einstein, have you figured it out? They're _torturing her_,"

"What do you mean? What are they doing to it?"

"And there you go again! It's a _she,_ I thought maybe there was more to you than just a mindless brain willing to do blind work when you got her to speak, but you're just the same as always! An idiot!"

"Jameson, will you…"

He took a breath, but when he spoke again, the fierceness was still there.

"They want to train her to be a mindless killing machine for war. And now you've got them thinking they can use her cells, too. They want to duplicate what she is, and they're destroying her in the process,"

He stormed out, leaving Brick alone in the room, the only sound the soft buzzing of the machines next door. He stood there in silence for a few more moments before heading back into the small control room.

For the first time in his life, Brick questioned the work he was performing. Of course, before, there had not been anything controversial to study. His job wasn't very exciting to anyone but those working in his field.

But now, as he studied Subject X, he wasn't sure their work was entirely humane. Any of it. The things he had studied before, never quite knowing why he was supposed to, what was their purpose?

There was no proof; of course, Subject X had accelerated healing abilities. He couldn't _prove_ they were abusing her like Jameson said.

_It._ He corrected himself._ There's no substantial proof she's the female of her species. She is the first you've seen._

But that wasn't right, was it? Something about _it_ was very feminine.

In any way, he couldn't exactly accuse Ms. Black of doing anything without proof. Especially since part of her so-called cruelty was his idea.

X seemed melancholy, and substantially more tired. He rubbed his eyes as he stared at her, suspended in that strange liquid. It had been a while now since Boomer had stormed off, his words leaving an imprint in Brick's mind.

It was probably close to sunrise by now. He was desperately overworking himself, and he knew it.

_What _was_ that liquid?_ Each time he'd asked, the answer fluctuated between 'I don't know' and 'It's classified.' He was not allowed to research it.

_"That's not your job, Johnson,_" Mrs. Black's cool voice filled his mind.

"Well neither is this!" he shouted to no one, the sleeplessness cracking his demeanor. His eyelids felt heavy.

Each night, despite his attempts, at some point he would always fall asleep. No matter how much coffee he drank, sleep would overpower him.

He drifted away, leaning over top of his notes. It seemed like it had been only a minute since he last shut his eyes before he was greeted with sunlight.

_Ah, sunlight. I can't deny your beauty. The beautiful, green colour you…green?_

He shot up. Still suspended in her tube, Subject X was arched back, her body glowing, illuminated green by the liquid she was surrounded in. He vigorously began to write down what he was seeing, and that was when he heard it.

The most beautiful, agonizing sound he had ever heard. Somehow he knew, without knowing for sure, that she was screaming in pain. He stood up, and in his excitement he knocked his coffee over all of his notes.

For the first time in his life, that was not his top worry. He rushed to her aid.

Once he arrived in front of her, the illumination stopped, and there was no more response.

It went on like this for a few nights. And because of Boomer's words, Brick had chosen to keep this phenomenon to himself. He could not afford to bring her more pain.

A combination of Boomer's words and seeing her feeling something so human changed something in Brick's perception.

There was something, very, very wrong happening here.

And while he may never know what, he felt responsible for the wellbeing of Subject X.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Oh, God. Who's still reading this?! lol. This may be the longest update I've ever written for a story, ever, pre-author's note at least. I'm pretty proud of the length. I'm never too proud of the quality. But please let me know what you think! If you like it, or if you think it's too messy, too random, too weird, too choppy, too cheesy, too corny, too poorly written, I need to improoovee!<strong>

I guess, I mean, an apology is called for. I'm sorry for never uploading. I just fell into a bad bouts of Writer's Block. And I mean period. I couldn't write anything. It was an awful experience.

**dickory5 - Hope you're still reading and that you like chapter threeeeeeee**

**SunRose-01- Man getting to reply to my first flamer was riveting! I'm glad you liked it! Hopefully you're still here and you'll like chapter three as well!**

**MindlessChey- *gladly fills plate with more* Oh but questions are so healthy! I'm glad you're so curious. This chapter partially answers Boomer's anger. I'm glad you like how I wrote him! I'm glad you like it period!  
><strong>

**December's Devil- Yaaay! Here's an update, here's hopin yer still readin!  
><strong>

**Summer Jonium- Oh it was just my response to a flamer! Thank you SO much! Your support means the world to me :D  
><strong>

**PandoraHart- This is slightly less impending-doom as 'Return' but I still hope you're on the edge of your seat! Thanks for reviewing!**

**SweetHeartCandy- Ya brick's a jerk in this chapter though haha whoops**

**Sorry I Just Did - I am so happy that you like it! I was hoping to spread something new!**

**Chi-Chiwawa - Thank you so so so much! It's people like you that keep me going! hehe I'm glad you liked it! It was fun to write!**

**BubbleXBoomer4evr - I LOVE MACADAMIA NUT COOKIES!**

**shewolfgang - Eeeeeee I'm glad you like the way I dealt with it! To be honest it stung at first only because I'd never dealt with it before, but then I realized that people are people and they can think what they want. I don't have to like it and I can respond whatever way I'd like.**

**Silaze103- Oh no worries. Your review was all constructive criticism and I really appreciated it. I'm glad you liked my revised version ehehehe! **

**Alvinitty2468 - How about a shout out and a continuation :). I'm very happy you like it!**


	4. A Promise Made

**_Check the end for replies!_**

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><p><em>The sun shone brightly, the sound of the heat clear throughout the sermon. The weather of the day did nothing to match the mood. <em>

_Later, people will smile sympathetically at him, uttering nothings about her spirit or how it was such a shame. The gloom that came with this would rest over his head for the rest of his life. She was just so broken. _

Brick woke up in a panicked sweat. With the recent lies he had been forced to tell came the inevitable anxiety, tied with nightmares and frequent bouts of panic. Throughout his entire life he had avoided telling any lies, mostly choosing not to speak at all. But since he had kept his information to himself, it had begun to eat away at him, making him jump over the slightest things.

Mornings were easy for Brick. He had never found it difficult to wake up and fall back into routine. Even when he had hardly slept, it was easy to get up and function properly and with quality. All he had to do was focus on the movements, his mind to groggy to remind him of the numerous horrors that haunted his life.

He stayed a little longer in the shower that day; each day he would prolong his stay. His thoughts were quiet that morning, and he was grateful. The nightmare was still prevalent in his mind but very soon he pushed it back. That was something Brick Johnson specialized in: pushing things away.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and swallowed his morning medication, feeling calmer already as the pills worked their way throughout his blood system. It wasn't long before he was halfway to Hines Science.

In the time since his new assignment, people had begun to look at him with a newfound respect. Not that he was pushed around before, he simply went unnoticed. He preferred it that way. When he blended in with the paint on the wall, he could forget that he was a person. He could pretend he was a single entity, safe from human interaction and the petty feeling of pain.

Their smiles, real or not, reminded him of who he was, what he had lived, and what he had done. It was not a pleasant feeling.

When he walked into his work space, he was shocked to find Subject X sitting on the table. She was slouched over—very against her typical MO—and covered by Dr. Jameson's back.

"Come on kiddo, aren't you hungry?"

She responded with a low groan. It was at this point that Brick felt it necessary to make his prescence known, so he cleared his throat. Jameson straightened up and turned round, a bowl of oatmeal in his hands.

"Johnson,"

"Jameson. Have they stopped the treatment, then?"

X shot up at the sound of his voice, her eyes unhappy and betrayed.

"Only for a few days," Boomer turned back to X and she opened her mouth this time, as if to show Brick that she was fine despite his obvious betrayal.

"Listen, Dr. Jameson,"

"I really don't want to hear whatever you have to say, Brick. I'm not in the mood to have you explain why science is more important than an individual's explanation. I understand that you believe to be smarter than her, or whatever, but I think you're stupid if you do. That's all,"

Brick nodded. He strangely understood, though he regretted losing Dr. Jameson as a friend. Boomer cleared his way and Brick stepped up to examine Subject X. She stared at him. He tried not to notice the fact that her eyes had dulled a little since his first visit.

"Hello, X. Do you remember who I am?"

She kicked him sharply in reply, causing him to wince.

"I suppose you do. Well, at least you're responsive," she responded by falling back on the metal slab, letting her limbs go weak, "alright. Very funny. You know it only proves that you understand what I'm saying, don't you?"

She sighed loudly.

"Maybe she's just tired," Dr. Jameson said, the amused tone in his voice prevalent.

"You know, X, I think you've realized I can make this either easy for you or hard for you," she scoffed loudly before sitting up, "thank you. Can you raise your right hand for me?" he asked. Today's session would be to see if she understood basic human instructions, or names of limbs.

She raised an eyebrow before lifting up her left hand.

"Try the other one. That's your left hand,"

She replied by raising her right leg. Boomer laughed loudly in the background. Brick couldn't help but smirk slightly. She dropped her leg and swayed them back and forth, waiting for him to speak. He just couldn't figure her out.

He looked down at her clipboard, making a note of everything that she was doing, though certain he would edit it before showing it to his superiors. They didn't need to know she was intelligent enough to mess around with him.

As he glanced up again, a strange feeling hit him in his chest. It was easy to ignore when she was looking so mischievous but she had dropped the mask briefly as he had been looking down. Naturally, she picked it up quickly but the damage was done. She was hurting badly. And it was all his fault.

He continued his work in silence and watched for the first time as they placed her back into the tube. She stood, her arms touching the glass, anticipating the green liquid to come out and suck the life from her. She looked at him, pleading, silently begging him to make the pain stop. He wanted to scream at her for making him feel so heavy. There wasn't anything he had the power to do. He was just a lowly scientist given the opportunity to be a part of something greater than his petty work with bacteria.

The green liquid shot out and she whipped her head around, gulping a breath of air before it wiped the energy from her. The workers seemed pleased with their job and they nodded to Brick as they left.

Hours had passed and Brick's eyes had not stopped staring at her.

"What do you want me to do?" he murmured quietly to himself, knowing X had no way of replying. She looked so broken in that stupid tube and he felt so protective of her. He didn't like that feeling. He didn't like interacting with other people (though she wasn't _really_ a person) because they had this stupid habit of evoking emotion within him. And emotions brought back memories. Visions he didn't want to see anymore.

_I've already lived them._ He thought. He walked up and sat down in front of her. Inspecting her closely she did not seem so motionless. Her left hand twitched slightly every so often and he imagined she was waging war inside herself. She was like a kitten captured, betrayed by a man she thought she could trust. That was another reason he hated interaction. People had this notion that he could be relied upon. Didn't they know he could hardly rely on himself?

He checked his watch, knowing she reacted around the same time each night. Sure enough her back arched and melancholy music filled the room. He stood up, staring at her. She slumped once she finished but she did not shut her eyes. Instead, she stared at him, her pink eyes squinting. She looked older, there. As though it took all she had to keep them open.

He wasn't sure just what it was that he was doing but he brought his hand up against the glass nonetheless. She was just so tragic…so beautiful. He was so sorry. She met his hand. A flow of energy passed through him and the image of a flower opening appeared in his mind.

"What?...What do you?"

She smiled, amused by his confusion. Another image appeared. This time of a blossom. Then of a blossom…blossoming.

"Blossom? What…"

She smiled happily, though her eyes still shared that tired look, similar to a mother of four.

"Is that your name?"

She tilted her head. He assumed she meant 'yes'.

"I'm sorry for doing this to you. Do you know that?"

She blinked solemnly. Her hand left his and she tapped to the right of the tube. He walked around, looking at what she was pointing at. It was a series of numbers. He looked at her, confused. She shut her eyes and various codes appeared in his mind. He typed them in and soon enough the green liquid disappeared and Blossom sat at the bottom of the tube. He could hear her panting heavily.

"Is that how you can speak? Or do you know how to speak English?"

"I can speak," she said after some pause, before returning to her pant. Her voice was difficult to explain. It still held the same breathtaking tone as the first time he had heard it but it was filled with less wonder. She was like a child who had been slapped with reality, the innocence sucked from her. He sat down in front of her.

"Do you know how to remove the tube? Tell me, and I'll do it," she looked up at him and smiled, amused by his sudden change of heart.

"No," she said simply, "I just know how to make the poison disappear,"

_Oh._ He thought, the stabbing feeling in his chest back. _Poison._ _I did this to her._

"Not completely," she said, smiling at him. It didn't make him feel any better that she was trying to comfort _him._

"How…how did you end up on earth?" She nodded, understanding his curiosity. Suddenly he felt as though he was shoved back. He found himself in a city, light snow on the ground and the sky dark. He realized he was watching a scene.

Blossom stood beside an alley, her bright red hair flowing down her back, a white hat on her head. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes excited. She seemed so happy, happier than he had ever seen her. She whipped out a small black thing, similar to a cell phone or a digital notebook. He assumed it was something that was unique to her species.

He walked over to her, leaning over her shoulder, knowing that it was simply her memory and she couldn't actually see him. The words were unintelligible but soon morphed into English.

_It is cold. The people here seem sad, always rushing to their destination, not stopping to greet anyone. _

A man walked by and slowed, looking her up and down. It lit a fire in Brick's chest that he didn't know existed. He suppressed the feeling, knowing there is not much he could do about it. Blossom frowned, going to her notebook.

_I do not like the men of Earth. They are frightening creatures, staring at the females with a hunger and possession that is not present at home. I have yet to meet one that speaks in a respectful tone towards me. They use terms like 'chick'; which we have previously believed to reference creatures of flight to define their females. _

_If their hunger is not towards a woman then it is towards power and that is the part that sickens me the most. I have been here for almost two weeks now and although I sense no immediate threat to us, I feel the human race is destructive towards themselves. _

Brick frowned. Her words were harsh but scarily true. He wished to have been able to prove to her that not all men were like that but as of yet he had only proven her observations correct.

_The satellite they had sent seems to have been sent many years ago, reaching us only now. I do not believe they even recall that they had sent it. They seem so fickle._

Ah, so that was why she was here. She was a scout. He continued watching the scene. She was the only one on the street looking at the sky. She was right, but he wondered if things were different in the summertime. Everyone was rushing because the cold was biting. A woman on her cellphone walked by. Though she was unfamiliar, she was very similar to Ms. Black. Blossom shivered, stopping her walk to write once more.

_The women are most peculiar. I have yet to figure them out. There are…images, of women scantily dressed and I am not sure who for. Some women are with men and others have this grave sadness to them. There seems to be a gender inequality, but the women seem very hypocritical. They want to prove themselves but they seem determined to have men do the hardwork. The men must have all the money, since each time I see a male and a female in a restaurant, the man is always expected to pay. _

The image melted away and he was back in the laboratory. Blossom was panting, and he assumed that it took a lot out of her to show him that.

"You wanted to see if we were a threat,"

"You're not," she said, mockingly, "but you're awfully evil,"

"Listen, Blossom, I'll fix this. I'll get you home,"

A series of numbers flashed in my mind again and I realized she meant for me to bring the poison back. She was still looking out for me. Her selfless nature awoke something within me; she had begun to develop a horrible habit of bringing out all these things I thought I had suffocated a long time ago.

I did as she asked and this time she did not panic as the green liquid swallowed her whole.

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><p><em><strong>End Note:<strong>_

_**_**I hope this is good enough for you all. I really hope it was worth the wait, I do. I know it's not as long as it should be for such a long lapse between the last chapter and this one, but it's longer than I usually like to write them. I tried not to make it too much out of character. Please let me know if it is immensely confusing.**_ **_

_**I still remember when I had sat down to write this story. I began with the intention that I would write at least twenty pages before deciding to post, that way, I would always be twenty pages ahead of you all and none of you would have to wait too long. **_

_**How quickly our plans change. It might sound hard to believe but I never for a second gave up on this story. This chapter took me forever to write, simply because I just couldn't find a way to do it properly. And, well, because I just hit a rough patch in life and I didn't have the strength to write a story I consider to be very reflective on society. I think you can all relate to the feeling of helplessness and the want to do absolutely nothing. I suppose I just decided to stop moping and wallowing in self-pity. What better way to do that then to throw myself back into writing?**_

_**I am, however, very satisfied with how it's turned out, though I could still go on for hours listing all the things I find wrong with this current update.**_

_** I feel my footing returning to me. I won't change the hiatus status on my profile, I just don't want to get anybody's hopes up. I can never tell how long my "pull yourself together" moods will last. But I will try my best to continue on, this chapter certainly took a lot out of me. **_

_**It is worthy of mentioning that almost every day I would come back and read your reviews. I feed off your love and support. It was almost as though I was a marathon runner and you were all in the stands, cheering me on.**_

**REPLIES:**

**NATSUME.139- **_Hi, love! Late review is better than no review. I hope you're still around! And I do hope you find this chapter just as interesting as the previous ones. _

**GUEST- **_Thank you for review! I hope you're still around. Gee, I'm going to be saying that a lot. Don't feel any less special if you see me repeating it in everyone else's reply. I mean it just the same._

**ROSEQUARTZ1- **_Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked it. Hopefully you haven't given up on me!_

**CRUELISTNIGHTMARE- **_Ha, being anywhere on your most liked list is better than anything! I do hope you'll still be with me, reading I mean. Thank you for your review!_

**KRIZ017- **_You replied to chapter 2 but it was after I had posted, so I assume you kept on reading. Thanks so much for your review! I do too, it's always fun to read and as a writer it's certainly fun to play around with them. Sometimes working with the whole triplets thing gets a little tedious, especially when it's AU. They just have such different personas. _

**ALVINITTY2468- **_Thanks so much love! It's been even longer now, hasn't it? I'm so sorry. Truly I am. I know how painful it is just wanting to see the next installment to something. I did my best not to leave it on such a big cliffhanger, so I do hope it wasn't too hard. And I certainly wish you're still reading along. _

**KANAME1993- **_Yes, I understand. But I had to build it up a little bit. She was too dangerous to be let out, it would have been more than a temper tantrum. What happened in this chapter was her fighting back despite being so drained. She's basically dying, hope that's not really a spoiler. Hopefully you're still around and thanks for your review!_

**GOLDDRAGONRIDERKIRA- **_Thanks, love! Hopefully you're still reading along!_

**KYOGAN-SAORI- **_Sorry to have uploaded so late! I truly feel terrible. Do hope you're still here!_

**FLUFFFAIRY- **_Sorry love! Later rather than never, right? hehe...sorry again._

**CHI-CHIWAWA- **_Hi dear! Sorry, love. I just had all my creativity drained. _

**DECEMBER'S DEVIL- **_It's always lovely to hear from people who have been with me since my first story. I think of you 100% as a classic fan. That of course is in no offence to any of my new fans, nor am I excluding anyone else who has been with me from the start. You just made me think of that, is all. Thanks for your review and do hope you haven't given up on me!_

**IAMTHECREATOR- **_Aw, thank you SO much! Really means a lot. I can't explain to you how I came up with the idea for this story. I just shot of bed one night and I had to write it down. I hope I haven't let you down._

**DICKORY5- **_I don't know, love, it's been quite a bit...dare I ask if you're still around? Thank you for your review though!_

**SUMMER JONIUM- **_Always wonderful to hear your reviews! You're quite loyal, you are. Thank you so much!_

**MARISSA LEE- **_Hope you're still around dear. You left such a sweet review I'd hate to have lost you to the trials of time. _

**AMYTHIST7- **_Oh, love, it's never not thrilling to see you've left a review. I love your writings so much that it makes me so happy to know you feel the same way. I've just been so down lately that I could hardly bring myself to write. Hope you're still around! _


	5. Newfound Zeal

_**A/N: Check the end for your reply! **_

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><p>He had lied to her. After a month of blatant inactivity from his side, he was finally able to admit what he had done. He was still unsure if he had meant to lie to her from the start, if he was deeply affected by her appearance of helplessness, her rapidly weakening health or simply because he felt like he owed her something after what she had shown him. He would often attack himself, for daring to bring hope into her newly-bleak life to satisfy his own conscience. Sometimes, if he was feeling forgiving, he would argue that his words had become untrue over time. When he had promised her his assistance, he hadn't considered how he would even think of doing so. He hadn't realized it would be so difficult.<p>

And was it really his problem to begin with?

_Of course it is, you nitwit._

He sat up in his chair. He had not heard that voice in a while.

The past three weeks he had spent his days in his cushioned seat, staring out the large ceiling-to-floor windows that covered his southern wall. When he realized how difficult it would be to help her escape, he filed for usage of his stored vacation days indefinitely. This was a risk, it was a big project and he could have easily lost his job. However, he banked heavily on his being an asset to the company as well as the experiment and went ahead with it anyway, deciding he could suffer Jenkins' increasingly threatening phone-calls each day.

He planned on using this time to brainstorm. With him not advancing the assignment forward, Subject X (or, rather, Blossom) was safer than if he was still working there. Instead, he sat in his chair and moped, until exhaustion forced him to fall asleep. His beard had grown prominent, and his hair was in need of a long-overdue trim. Things that mattered to him dearly, things that were as important as breathing once, suddenly did not seem to affect him.

He was a grown man and yet he felt weak and powerless. He was just one person, he could not stand alone against a company. He had made his mistake with inadvertently alienating Dr. Jameson. Brick wasn't sure that he would help him lead a mutiny, but he knew he would have assisted in at least making Blossom more comfortable.

Each time he thought of her he could not help picturing her being taken from her containment tube and brought into the laboratory. She would sit still, the perfect picture of nonchalance, refusing as always to show any signs of intelligence to anyone but Dr. Jameson. With his back turned she would glance around discreetly, hoping and waiting for him to walk through the door, only to be disappointed every single day.

Blossom had very carefully and slowly crept her way into his thoughts. She morphed from an alien, a foreign creature who offered an abundance of new things to be learned about biology (things he was willing to learn at any cost) to a friend. A living, breathing, thinking, feeling individual just as he was. He had known all along she was capable of these things, but he had never considered them to be equals.

When he first noticed her illumination scenes at night, the pain she felt so obvious, she crawled up in evolution in his mind. Not just an experiment, but an animal. It didn't take long until he viewed her as human, which he knew didn't fit her right either, for obvious reasons.

He realized he cared about her deeply. Something he didn't think he was capable of, not since he lost _her._ And it pained him to know he was unable to help her. So he stayed home, convincing himself she was at least better off without him.

_You are purposefully placing yourself in stalemate because you have always been afraid of risk._

Now, this was not necessarily true. There was a time in Brick's life—a point that seems so distant now though it could only have been a few years—where Brick lived and breathed risks. He was reckless, abrasive and thoughtless. It is almost painful for him to remember those years, because he was so different then. There are other reasons, too, but those remain repressed inside his mind.

The sun crept its way through the buildings and he noticed he had gone another night sleeplessly. He stood up, at first unsure of what he was planning on doing. Almost mindlessly he made his way to the bathroom, starting the shower. Once he had shaved, he reached for his gel. It rested in mid-air as he stared, lifting his head up. His hair was shaggy, and while with the beard he had looked homeless, cleanly shaven he realized he had looked younger than he had in years.

So he wiped off most of the gel, opting for a smaller dose, running it through his hair lightly. He was returning to work today.

The phone rang, as it did every morning at 7:30AM, a half hour before he was supposed to be at work. Each day it was something different, but he always absently admired Jenkins' persistence and vivid imagination.

He picked up the phone, but said nothing. The other line sighed loudly before speaking.

"Dammit, Johnson, if I could reveal classified information over the phone, believe me I would. You're clearly the only Coat who can handle this job, so pick yourself up and get to work,"

Brick opened his mouth and paused. Butch sounded defeated, it wasn't his usual chipper tone. He had a way of describing in perfect detail how he planned on killing or maiming you, that he almost sounded excited when he spoke.

"I am," was all he chose to reply with.

"Oh thank _God_, because I swear Johnson I was ready to come down there with shears—," Brick hung up before he could finish, deciding he didn't need to visualize his own torture that day.

A month ago if he had shown up to work as he had, looking young and show casing his vitality, his lab coat sleeves turned up and wearing his shirt slightly disheveled and unbuttoned, he would be horrified.

This wasn't him, he would think, this is some college boy who doesn't know what he's doing, the same things he thought whenever he looked at Dr. Jameson. The look of shock on Dr. Jameson's face, in fact, as he walked in to work, was probably the same as Brick himself had handed him on his first day.

"You look like a different person," Boomer had said, briefly forgetting his previous vexation against him.

"I am," he replied.

On his walk to work, he knew freeing Blossom would have to start slow. Whatever it was they injected her with (he had heard the word _antidote_ muttered a few times) would have to be diluted over time. Discreetly, so as to not raise suspicion. She would have to play her part too, acting as though she wasn't regaining her strength.

He needed her to be strong; he knew he would be unable to simply carry her out. The issue was _how._ Boomer _had_ to know more about it than he did. He had been working with her longer than he had. And Boomer was the one who had told him about the containment tube in the first place.

But aside from those few words when he first arrived, he was steadfast in his position against him. If only he could somehow hint to him he planned on helping her.

The only thing stopping him from unashamedly _telling_ him everything he knew about her, his experience with her all those nights ago was the fact that he didn't know Boomer. Despite all his talks about humanely dealing with Blossom, Brick was still uncertain as to whether or not he would be willing to risk his career, even risk consequences from the government, to take her home. Not to mention, he was the first one to suggest telling Black about Blossom's improvement.

He waited patiently for her to be brought in. To his shock, however, it was Jenkins who stepped in through the door. He walked towards him with fierce purpose, stopping an inch away from him.

"Jameson," he said curtly, "take a break,"

Boomer raised an eyebrow but did as he was told anyway.

Butch opened his mouth to speak, but ended up shutting it abruptly. He took a step back, taking in Brick's change in appearance.

Up until that point, Brick was sure Jenkins thought him meek and powerless. But Brick had always taken care of his shape. It would have gone against his beliefs in outward perfection if he had left his body go to waste. He was strong, just as Butch. His shoulders were wide, his body lean and muscular.

Butch shook the momentary distraction away physically, suddenly remembering what he had come here to do.

"We were ready to let you go after three days; we had already begun looking for replacements,"

This didn't surprise him, Blossom was a high-level experiment, he had been surprised they had let the project remain stagnant for as long as it had.

"However, Subject X had become severely unresponsive and violent to any new face. She's been in the containment tube since. Our funding is becoming scarce, and our superiors have decided if there are no real improvements in our knowledge of it, Subject X will be terminated, along with your job here. If you had come in like I had requested numerous times you would have been aware of this a long time ago. That is all,"

The way he spoke gave away more than he said, and Brick realized he had endangered Butch's position too. Classified information can only be discussed on the premises, so it wasn't as if he could have arrived at Brick's apartment to tell him all of this. Butch left shortly after he had spoken, his previous confidence lacking.

His words hung in the air around Brick, particularly '_terminated'_. He had just a short month to save Blossom. His only other option was giving away new information. While it would prolong her stay, it could also increase her suffering. Not only that, but she could be sent away to a different facility, not just one of research.

Boomer looked at him skeptically as he walked back in, but chose not to say anything. Soon enough, the double doors reopened, this time letting in six armed men carrying a stretcher. He couldn't see her, but he knew it was her they were carrying. They placed her, stretcher and all, on the cold metal table. A series of locks could be heard opening before they slid it out from under her, and proceeded to lock her down once more. He approached her slowly, ashamed of himself.

She hardly looked alive. He felt a catch in his throat as he came closer.

"I should thank you, I think," Boomer's voice interrupted his thoughts of self-hatred and he turned to face the blonde man. Seeing her as she was made him want to throw caution to the wind and just tell Jameson what he wanted to do. Rational thought kept him from doing so.

"What?" He asked, his voice harsher than he intended.

"With your leave and her eventual…_storage_, there wasn't much for me to do. Bubbles certainly thanked you, frequently. We've got a…we've got a girl coming along, you know,"

Brick was surprised. He had not expected Boomer to talk to him about anything besides what was necessary for a long time. He saw this as a sign.

"Jameson…do you have any idea what she is…contained in?" He asked, staring down at Blossom. She had yet to open her eyes.

"That's classified information," he replied immediately, the general response, "but, um," he continued after some silence, "they've increased the dosage since your leave. That's why her skin is starting to wrinkle, almost. They're draining her, too,"

"Draining?"

"Yes, they're taking her blood," he said coldly.

"Boomer…" he tested, turning to look at him. He seemed taken aback at the usage of his first name, but otherwise was complacent, "I wonder if we could dilute the chemical somehow,"

"Well, yes, replacing some of the chemical with a countering one would do the trick. But I don't believe Ms. Black would allow it, especially since X has been so volatile lately,"

"I'm sure she wouldn't," he said, nodding, bracing himself, "but perhaps we can keep it on a need-to-know basis?" He said quietly, almost barely audible. Boomer rushed towards him, his eyes wildly searching around the room.

"Brick, that would be committing mutiny,"

"I am aware," he replied.

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><p><em><strong>AN: 'Tis I! Back from the dead. Sheesh, it's been so long since my last update I can't even apologize enough. BUT! This is a severely cropped chapter from what I've written, as I thought it would be best to upload what I've already got down pat and work on the rest so as to have a quicker update next time. I do apologize for the length, though. Not quite as long as six months absence should warrant. So? Thoughts? Is Brick's change too sudden? Does it feel wishy-washy? Like I've completely lost the characters? Hope not...  
><strong>_

**DICKORY5- Thanks loads for your continued loyalty! Can't apologize enough it seems for the ridiculous lapses between updates.**

**GOLDENDRAGONRIDERKIRA- Hey thanks! Means a lot! Seriously! Hope you're still following the story along! Would love to hear your opinion of the newest chap!**

**HELGABUTTERCUP- I'm so sorry they're not! It's so strange for me to write this story with them on the severe backburner. I mean, Buttercup has YET to appear! Sheesh. Crazy. Thanks so much for reviewing each chapter as you read even though they'd already been posted! Means so much.**

**FIREBLUES- As much as I adore that review you certainly laid a load of pressure on me! In a completely good way, so I hope I have maintained your impression. It's funny you mention that because it was actually re-reading 'Return' that encouraged me to...return...to this story. I'm glad you think I've matured, and man I hope I kept that same voice you praised. As always thank you so so so much for your review and as soon as I think of a brilliant idea I will morph it into a novel. I will 100% let you know about it. **

**LORDOFAWESOMENES- Thanks! Hmm, without revealing too much, yes and no. **

**GUEST- I've made, to quote, MOOOOOOOOOOOOÖOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OO *takes in huge breath* OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOoooorrreeee**

**MARISSALEE- Wow, thanks! I really appreciate it. Can't wait to get into more BrickxBlossom dialogue because you can imagine Blossom's got quite a lot to say. Thanks for your faithfulness x! **

**SHADYBREEZE- We all have a heart somewhere, no? **

**OOANGELWITHABROKENHALOOO- Thanks so much! Means a LOT, seriously. I sound like a broken record saying that but I can't express it enough. **

**KYOGAN-SAORI- Well, six months later and? Thoughts? Still here? Happy you're happy as always :) **

**SATORIATPARIS- Thank you SO much! I really do hope you've got the same opinion after this update (but feel free to chew my head off if you don't). **

**ROSEQUARTZ1- Thank you! **

**ELISA- Thank you, with all my heart! It's an honour to be the first story you've reviewed! Hope you've stuck around x**

**ALVINITTY268- Thank you! I'm glad you found it perfect, that's so nice to hear. Deepest apologies on the lack of Blossom action in this chapter. However I will make a deep promise you can see an update soon. And I mean it. Seriously. **

**TAYLORANNE- Here's more :)! **

**KEKE234- Thanks! For the well wishes and for your review. **

**MAIMAI123- Here it is! Thanks so much for your love! **

**FADEDILLUSION101- Login or not, you've still reviewed and I deeply appreciate it! I'm glad you liked that line. Sometimes I feel guilty for the situation I've written Blossom into lol. **

**2BLOODREDBATWINGS- Thank you! And update I did :) **

**GUEST (the most recent one)- Continue I have!**

**THISGOODGIRLHASGONEBADXD- You ask for an update, you got it!**


	6. Inside the Animal

_**A/N: Check the end for your reply! Also, review maybe. I really love them and I read and reply to all of them :)  
><strong>_

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><p>She is a creature on display. Her words cannot be heard by these minds. Her voice would frighten them, or worse, intrigue them. Humans were the worst when they were intrigued. Their prying hands know no bounds. They must touch, prod, probe, feel, see. <em>Understand.<em>

The day ends and she knows that night must have fallen. She assumes, at least, based off her observations on human life, that they finish work at dusk. Otherwise, she has no way of knowing whether it is the moon or the sun that is ruling the sky. She is dragged back to her prison within a prison, she no longer struggles.

Emptiness. She has been emptied, the life dragged out of her. It has been months since she had been taken, and she still has not figured out how they knew she was different, but she has stopped caring. No more messages to her sisters, no more failed attempts at distress signals. Just pathetic resignation. She places her hands against the glass, hoping to disguise the oncoming shakiness. Humans do not respond well to weakness, she has learned. They exploit it gleefully.

The red-haired man stares at her like she is a beaten dog. Perhaps, she thinks bitterly, I am. He stares at her coldly and soon she hears the oncoming storm. She breathes to prepare herself, and she is engulfed in poison.

Her heart pumps strongly within her chest as her mind slips away. In her mind, she is old and beaten, fallen on her knees as acid rains down on her in a room nearly devoid of life. When it is not acid, it is black smoke, sneaking in and suffocating her, raising her above the ground only to drop her miles down.

She feels herself running down an endless hall, a door marked 'Exit' in her home language teasing her at the end. Her skin is on fire and she loses herself in the dream.

_Who am I?_ She screams. _Where am I? Where am I? Where am I? _She repeats, on and on, until the words mold together into meaningless letters.

She is plummeting into a black lake, begging for rescue, fearing the water because she cannot swim. It chokes her, filling her lungs with water as she scratches at the surface, now frozen over. She makes her final call, before the scene changes again.

_Help._ She now begs weakly, back in the dark room she began in. She is curled up in a ball, the fight leaking out of her, as it always does, each night fading faster and faster. _Help_. Her voice is a whisper, her breath laboured. Her heart now beats slowly, stabbing her with each pump. _Stop fighting_. It asks, forgetting she already has, that the pain still prevails whether she is trying to save herself or not.

The room erupts in a fire that burns her like nothing else. It is green and laps at her happily. She raises off the ground, feeling the flames eat away at her. Her skin peels off of her easily, leaving her bloody and naked. She releases a bloodcurdling scream, grasping at her torn face, feeling and seeing it all at once. The room closes in on her. She is fading.

Her heart starts beating again, faster and harder than ever before. She remembers, now, that this is not real. The fire persists, but it can no longer harm her. She wills herself, refusing to fail, to wake up.

The scene melts away and her eyes are immediately bombarded with green liquid. If she had the ability to do so within the tube, she was certain they would water. Her mind races, wondering if her eyes had been open the whole time, if stepping away from the nightmare was always as simple as recognizing it as such.

The pain she feels now is different than in her dreams. It is dull and numbing, rubbing against her and certainly bruising her skin, as the green liquid usually does. She focuses her eyes, ignoring the sting, and notices the red-haired man staring at her with his ever-present wonder. She would smirk if she could.

The need for air and freedom awakens within her. She is able to survive in there without air, but it does not remove the desire. She presses her hand against the glass, half beckoning to the red-haired man and half wishing her powers were still with her, so that she could break free.

Like a dog following instruction, he places his hand against her, allowing her to use her remaining strength to peer into his mind. His psyche is like an empty room, everything important locked away in a closet. Her current energy is not enough to go peering, and, if she were willing to be honest, she did not feel it was her place to do so.

Questions racked his mind, all of which she felt the strange need to answer, if only to soothe his curiosity. She was only able to answer one.

Her name.

Or, at least, the closest Earth translation.

"What?...What do you?"

His confusion was deeply endearing for her. Originally, she had interpreted him to be a cold, heartless man, like all the other _scientists_ she had met, save for her original keeper. Now she could sense a deep struggle within him, as though he was beginning to thaw.

She tried projecting a different image, residing to succumb to unconsciousness if he was still unable to understand. Projection was difficult enough without being leeched away at.

"Blossom? What…"

She managed a smile, both the telepathic connection and the green poison starting to blur her vision.

"Is that your name?"

Her head dropped, feeling suddenly too heavy for her neck, even while suspended in the liquid. She hoped he would assume it was regardless, without confirmation.

"I'm sorry for doing this to you. Do you know that?"

I know, she wanted to say. Save me, she wanted to say. But even with her full strength, she would never reside to begging a human to be her hero. She tapped weakly, pointing to the control panel, before sending the code for release through his mind. To her surprise, he assisted without hesitation.

The green liquid faded and she was met with, albeit stale, air. She breathed it in greedily, thanking it for making her feel light again, for allowing her wounds to heal.

"Is that how you can speak? Or do you know how to speak English?"

She paused her indulging to judge the man. She briefly remembered what his name was, but the energy required to do so was more than she had available, especially when there were more pressing matters at hand. Could this man help her? She had always imagined the blonde one to be the one who would help her, but with the introduction of the red-haired man his importance to their superiors, by her standards, seemed to have diminished.

_Will I suffer if I speak?_

"I can speak," she said finally. Her breath was laboured and her voice scratchy and low. Her lungs screamed in protest to her using precious air to speak.

"Do you know how to remove the tube? Tell me, and I'll do it," she looked up at him and smiled. Perhaps he could be of help after all.

"No," she said simply, "I just know how to make the poison disappear,"

His thoughts interrupted her mind suddenly, the lament radiating off of him, and she immediately regretted her choice of words.

_I did this._ His voice within her head sounded almost ethereal, and her chest began to sink.

"Not completely," she said, smiling at him, remembering that humans need to be comforted.

"How…how did you end up on earth?" She nodded, understanding his curiosity. She had been waiting for him to ask, or anyone to ask at all. She shut her eyes and focused. She was worried that she might pour a different memory into him if she wasn't careful enough.

There were things he did not need to know, now or ever. She showed him a series of memories detailing her time on Earth before her capture. She had only seen such a small speck, but it was not her fault.

Vibrations stormed throughout her body, searching for her last bit of strength to send into the projection. Her head burst out in splitting agony, but she kept a calm face. The memories trickled out and she took it away before he could witness her humiliating capture.

"You wanted to see if we were a threat,"

"You're not," she said, with an almost scoff, thinking how easily she could have defeated her captors had she not been so naïve, "but you're awfully evil,"

"Listen, Blossom, I'll fix this. I'll get you home,"

But at those words she was returned to hell. And while she still could hold onto consciousness, she could not help but think bitterly: what can one man do?

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><p><em><strong>AN: Blossom/Brick interactions for this story in particular are usually written Blossom-first. I never before planned to post any of Blossom's side, because I...well, I just wasn't going to. To be honest, I am a little nervous about the change of focus, especially since it's not story progressive. I hope it's received well but I am a big girl and I can take (constructive!) criticism. In fact, it's incredibly helpful. Anyway, think of this as an easter-egg since I promised a faster update since my last post and failed to deliver. The part about that chapter being written was true, I just have yet to be pleased with it. Luckily for you all I'm in my final year of highschool and am procrastinating everything because nO, which leads to me constantly writing. Feel free to find out where I live and wring my neck if you don't see an update by the end of October 5th (that's my goal).  
><strong>_

_**ROSEQUARTZ1- Thanks! (I know it's a boring reply and I'm sorry) **_

_**GOLDDRAGONRIDERKIRA- Wow thanks! Means a lot and I'm glad you like it!**_

_**KYOGAN-SAORI- Glad to hear it!**_

_**SATORIATPARIS- Well, if you felt bad for Blossom then...and I can tell you her reaction will be an interesting one;)  
><strong>_

_**GUEST- Thank you! **_

_**STILL-ME-Thanks! -fills plate-**_

_**ASHBLONDEP- Thank you! I'm really glad you like it! This idea has been eating away at me for the longest time! (and I updated!)**_

_**FLOWERFLUFFY-Ahh! What a wonderful review! I greatly appreciate the analysis, you've nailed it! **_

_**BARFING CUPCAKES- Well thank you for reading regardless! Thanks for putting it up in your top 3! **_

_**AMYTHIST7- Hope you like this one toO! **_


	7. Secrets

_**A/N: Check the end for your reply! Also, review maybe. I really love them and I read and reply to all of them :)  
><strong>_

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><p>There was a heavy silence placed between the two men and suddenly Brick was worried he had shot too far with Boomer. Immediately his mind was reverting to its comfortable state. This was insane; he was risking everything for a creature who had shared a <em>memory<em> with him. He wasn't some…_hippie_, ready to chain himself to a tree. He was a scientist.

It was at that moment that Blossom stirred. Their conversation was momentarily stalled, both of them rushing to her side. Her groan was weak, but it was watching her struggle to open her eyes that reminded Brick just why he was prepared to risk everything.

"There's no way we'd be able to do it discreetly," Boomer said, eventually, his voice quiet, "and with another baby on the way I can't afford to lose my job, Brick,"

Brick nodded. He hadn't even considered Boomer's allegiance to his family. But at least he could tell Jameson was unwilling to turn him in. He stood by as he usually did when Boomer tended to her, going through typical human care. He ran a cold cloth over her face, wiping away some of the dried blood. He was sure it was from the result of a punishment handed to her for noncompliance. He flinched at the thought of it, they were conditioning her like an animal. Even Boomer, who had only ever done kind things for her, was an _animal_ specialist. He was her caretaker, her groomer.

It soothed him to see she didn't seem to mind. It took him a while to notice, once he begun to look past her initial foreignness, but she found a deep serenity whenever Boomer tended to her. It was a small, gentle smile dictating peacefulness that could only be visible to those paying severe attention to details: which had always been Brick's favourite pastime.

There wasn't much to learn from Blossom in her state, but Brick had managed to make some notes regardless. All in all, while informative, he knew they would be useless in the end.

Even though they had removed the locks that kept her attached to the operating table, she remained immobile. The only sound coming from her was her laboured breath. She did not even glance at Brick, he assumed because her physiological needs were much greater. When it was time for her to be sent into the containment room and for him to resume his stance by her, he requested to keep her out in the laboratory for the remainder of the evening.

He should have realized it would raise alarms. The clicking of her heels echoed in the white, sterile room. When he turned to face her, he found a fear inside of him that was not there before. Her eyes, if it was even possible, seemed darker; harsher.

"23 days without you in here, 23 day stall and now I hear you expect me to trust you with watch over her, _alone_?" Her voice had a grating sound to it, as though she had aged significantly since the last time they spoke. A new white streak had found itself amidst the dark grey roots at the top of her forehead, and the stingy smell of cigarette smoke had crept itself into the room. He tried his best not to turn up his nose.

Not only did he figure she would _not_ assume his reaction, but it would, after all, be hypocritical of him. There was a time not too long ago where he had indulged in the same habit. But that was part of a time he (privately) referred to as his Pre-Reformation period. Now, the smell of it made his head ache.

"With all due respect, there is more to learn from her awake. I only thought it most beneficial to study her without break, given that there was indeed a 23 day lapse,"

She narrowed her eyes at him. He had spoken evenly, so smoothly that he had in fact fooled himself. He expected himself to stutter, to shake, to sweat, like he normally did whenever he lied. His sister used to refer to it as the Triple 'S' Attack.

"Very well. But I should warn you, Johnson, you are treading on hair-thin ice. So, unless you would like to drown, watch your step," she hissed, before clicking away, her guards following suit. The door shut behind her with a thump and the room was thrown into silence once more. It was then that he had begun to shake.

It was as though he had been avoiding addressing it, but could now see just how rapidly his life had changed. How memories of his past had begun to float and weave themselves in easily, as opposed to the stabbing flood of emotions they used to provide him with. His blood began moving at regular pace again, and he started to calm down, remembering who was in the room with him.

To his dismay she was still lying down. Her eyes were only half open as he neared her and he knew he couldn't have waited any longer to spare her at least one night's freedom.

"Hello," she managed. Her voice was low and scratchy. It sent a chill through him. She sounded like she was on her deathbed. He managed a similarly meagre reply, though he did not nearly have as good of an excuse for his tone.

"You might have to go back on your promise," she continued finally.

"What? Why? I know I've left you alone for these past few weeks, but—,"

"I think I will not make it much longer,"

_Oh._ He thought, as it registered. She wasn't about to bitterly point out his absence. She didn't need to hear his explanation, and it wasn't because she was angry, but because she had given up hope.

He made the split second decision to pour her some water, remembering that it was the only thing she reacted well with, hoping it would at least slightly improve her condition. It was a long shot, but it was all he had thought of at the moment.

Thankfully, it worked. After one glass, her eyes were fully open. They had a dark grey tinge to them, and it only matched her words that she was slowly dying. After three glasses, however, she was able to sit up. As she did so, she slid down to the floor and leaned against the frame of the operating table. He followed suit, sitting beside her.

"I just, I wanted to lean against something," he only nodded in reply. His remorse at being away for so long was overwhelming, yet still he felt selfish for thinking about himself in a moment where it was so clearly about Blossom's health.

"I have never been a damsel. But now…I can barely walk, let alone fly,"

"Fly?" He asked, incredulous.

"An explanation for a different time, if there ever is one,"

"I promised you I would help you escape, Blossom, and I meant it. I know my absence didn't exactly solidify that, and I'm sorry. I thought I had bitten off more than I can chew. But I have a plan,"

"Never go without a plan; never go without three backups either. That's what my mother used to say," her breathing became laboured again, so while his curiosity was itching away at him, he decided it was best not to press the issue.

She leaned her head against his shoulder; he was sure because of exhaustion. She stayed that way for a long while, until her breathing became somewhat regular. A few times he had to do his best to lean his head away without disturbing her, worried that she had (as she stated) run out of time.

While she was still alive, his mother would often tell him stories of his time as a newborn. He was such a still baby that she could not rest until she had checked on him at least a dozen times. He was the younger out of the two, and they had panicked when they knew she was pregnant with him. His sister had been such a hell-raiser; they had only just gotten to start sleeping fairly regularly again.

So when he felt the need to check on Blossom repeatedly, he was bombarded with memories of his family, three people he preferred not to have to think about. One of whom left a particularly bitter taste in his mouth, as though he had eaten something rotten, or he had not drank water in days. As if the stabbing feeling in his chest wasn't difficult to deal with enough.

But now he was stuck thinking about her, every piece. Her laughter, her scowl, her eye-roll. They had promised him it would ease with time. But it only seemed to get worse.

"I too know the pang of loss," she muttered, before falling back asleep. After an hour had passed, he figured she would be most comfortable atop the bed. He lifted her up carefully and laid her down, feeling shameful that he could not offer her some comfort. Wheeling one of the desk chairs over from the counter, he placed it in front, sitting down with his notebook and choosing to monitor her sleeping patterns.

It would have been more effective had he placed the wires on her key points, but the thought had been shaken from his mind just as quickly as it had entered.

He spent the whole night wondering how it was she was captured in the first place. Had she done something to alert herself to the facility? Or was it something more biological, and she simply set off a radar? He would have to ask her how it had happened. He planned on it tonight, but he found himself unwilling to press her in her weakened state.

The escape would be much more difficult if she was traceable. There wouldn't be anywhere they could hide, not even for a short period of time. Her escape would be named as a national security threat and her recapture would become a number one priority. They would catch them in minutes.

Boomer had opted out of the rescue because he had a wife and three children to think about. He had a family, he had obligations. Brick had nothing of the sort. The only thing he ever considered as a commitment was his job, and he was already questioning that decision.

That only left one thing for him at risk.

_Was_ he prepared to die for her freedom?

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><p><em><strong>AN: Fun Fact! I started this story initially as a Boomer/Bubbles story, but it felt too out of character for Boomer to be an emotionless scientist than it did for Brick.  
><strong>_

_**Anyway, October 5th as promised (...mostly). I hope you like this chapter, it was a little iffy for me but I'm a perfectionist and nothing is good enough for me...ha. My next goal is October 14th, so tune in! And review please :). **_

**GOLDENDRAGONRIDERKIRA: Well, I mean, technically her fate is in my hands. Ha. Haha. HA. Glad you liked it though! **

**ROC95: Thank you! I'm glad you liked it!**

**A FAN OF YOURS: Glad to be of service! And thanks for being a fan :). **

**SWEETHEARTCANDY: Oh phew! I figured it would be appreciated, but my goal for this was to see how long I could go with just one point of view. It's hard. I just want to show you all what everyone's thinking! Glad you liked it though and I'll see what I can do about doing more multiple points of view. **

**PINKLUVCHARMER: I know you replied as Guest but I figured just to use your screen name. Well, I wouldn't call Blossom a damsel in distress and as you can tell she disagrees with that statement too! She's just a little...stuck right now. **

**AMYTHIST7: Thank you! I'm so glad you understand haha. I'd love to just write all the time but I can't lol. I'm planning on revealing both Blossom and Brick's past very soon. I've been hinting at Brick's for quite a few chapters now and it's just a matter of time before I reveal it. I'm really excited to share it, too. Haha. **

**KAWAISHIPPOU: It's always great to hear people saying they enjoy the plot. This idea has been in my mind for the longest time and given that I'd never seen anything like it I wasn't too sure people would respond positively. Brick is a little OOC but it's not without reason, so thanks for recognizing that! Ha. I haven't let 'Awful' affect me too much, it's just one person's opinion. It made me laugh a little though. **

**CHI-CHIWAWA: Ahh! Of course I remember you! Thank you for the lovely review! I'm not sure if I still have your email but I'll check to see if I do! That's so exciting! I really hope you stick with it. **

**READINGISMYIMAGINATIONTHEATRER: Hope you've stuck along for the ride :)!**


	8. All Apologies

_**A/N: Ha! A bit earlier than Oct 14th…I mean, not. Sorry this is so bad omg I can't believe it's been a year. I don't even have an excuse. I'm sorry.  
><strong>_

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><p><em>Blossom stood beside her superior, her shoulders pushed back and her head held high. Pride wasn't exactly forbidden in her profession; to say it was frowned upon would be more truthful. She could see her sister's watchful glare from the audience, but Blossom couldn't help the slight smirk that was threatening to creep further across her face. The first words she learned at the Academy suddenly flood her mind:<em> 'To be a Guardian is to be just, to be merciful, to protect and to explore.' _Not long after she realized this was her only purpose._

_To Blossom this was almost hilariously contradictory: her people were constantly under praise by the government for their work, yet they were worldly expected to have no reaction whatsoever. Modesty, much unlike her younger sister (who was her duplicate in almost every other sense), was a trait she had yet to fully understand. In her eyes to be humble meant to remain stagnant, to never improve or create new ways of doing things. Pride makes way for determination. Unfortunately, she was well aware that it wasn't just strange that she possessed pride or ambitious thinking—when so many others did not—it was an_ anomaly, _and of this she has been well aware of._

_See, a Guardian isn't just a profession: it is something you are born into and it is the highest nobility one can be honoured with. For thousands of years now, the government has been working to create the perfect breed of Ambaele. Many emotions that Ambaele indulge in are virtually non-existent in Guardians. While she was very much Ambaela-born, her pride was practically considered a mutation. Of course, she was so great at what she did that the only issue it created for her was constant chastisement—namely her sister—and whispers as she walked past from her fellow Guardians._

_She would never admit it, lest she humiliates her sister, but the truth was: Blossom is a mutation. Her parents were both Ambaele, yes, but only one of them carried the Guardian gene. Only one of them was approved for reproduction. Her mother had run from her assigned partner—the one given to her based on her biological system, the one best suited to her to ensure the Guardians only continued to evolve—her mother had had an_ affair_._ _With an average Ambaela, a professor no less. If Blossom was an anomaly for being prideful, her mother was practically a different species: she had fallen in_ love, _something that should have been bred out years and years ago. To this day there are only three people aware. Not only would she lose her position as a Guardian, she would shame the family she had left as well as her mother who has long since been in rest._

_"Blossom, please, step up and say a few words," and just like that, she was instantaneously pulled from her reverie, all signs of pride washed away—an act she had learned over the years—as she stepped up to the podium._

_ "Fellow Ambaele," she began, "The Blue Planet discovered many ages ago has finally been tread upon, and it is with great confidence that I can say it poses no threat than the average fly," _

_The Guardians were infamous for being concise and to the point in speech, and thankfully for this she was no exception. At the end of her sentence, the crowd broke out in a great cheer, and she bowed out. Not many ages ago the planet they believed to be devoid of light had sent along a satellite, and her specific department—research—could hardly hold back their excitement. They thus far had known fundamentally nothing about the planet, only theories about its status of life. In terms of the Galaxy, it put them at a serious advantage against other planets in the exploration race. Even since her visit, other planets—including their sister and rival planet Ganda—already had plans to send their own team abroad._

_Knowledge was power, and it wasn't long before the Guardians were granted permission to send a small research team to explore. Blossom would go down in history as the first Andromedan, let alone the first Ambaele, to step foot on the little Blue Planet…Earth. The thought of it alone almost made her sigh like a love-struck teenager. It was the first planet anyone, as far as Andromeda was concerned, had visited that was completely primal. They sat by the Red Planet in front of it for what felt like ages, waiting to be granted access into its gravitational pull, until they realized they were unaware of this practically universal law._

_ "Blossom!" She stopped dead in her tracks, not bothering to turn around, knowing already who it was and what piece of mind they were planning on giving her._

_ "My dearest sister," she said, when her youngest sister had tapped her shoulder, as she turned around._

_ "My suns, could you have been any more inappropriate up there?"_

_ "I don't recall saying any more than a handful of words. What was so inappropriate about them?" She asks, knowing full well what her sister had in mind._

_Her sister took in a breath_, "A Guardian is never prideful, for their work is not for pride but—,"

_"For the good of all," she finished, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes, "I graduated a few years before you, Gleam, but I'm almost certain we had the same curriculum," pink eyes stared into green—Blossom always assumed her eyes were a result of the mixing of blood, as her other sister also shared green eyes—amused into disapproving._

_ "Well then I don't understand how you can blatantly ignore that. I can overlook it in private quarters but up there? That wasn't just broadcast in Ambae, it was all over the_ galaxy. _This is monumental,"_

_ "I know," she said, shaking her shoulders back, though with intent to irk her sister. _

_ "You're doing it again! If you were going to be like this I don't understand why you didn't just choose Attacker?"_

_Attackers involved the only specialization of Guardians where pride was encouraged, as well as its opposite: shame. For them, improvement only came after being humiliated by their superiors for failure. Because of this, pride was forgiven._

_ "Because I'm not an Attacker. I'm a researcher and subsequently an Ambassador," she said simply, knowing full well that wasn't intended to be Gleam's point, "besides, do you really think I could do what Molly does?"_

_Her sister scoffed, "You are being purposefully difficult!"_

_ "Yes, dear sister, I am. Now if you'll excuse me, I have studying to complete," she said with a soft smile. Gleam meant well, of course, but over the years Blossom had grown to tune out her fair-haired sibling; the poor girl just did not understand that it wasn't that she was_ choosing _to be disobedient; it was simply an error in her programming. Or so she tells herself. It was simply a worry she didn't have the time for, not when the 20-Year Program was being introduced, and she was determined to make sure Ambae remained at the top of the market._

_Her colleagues depended on their translators to assist them, but Blossom had always been unconventional. As she left the procession, her feet couldn't carry her fast enough to her home. Translator and clips in her bag, she would learn at least one of their languages—_English _she remembered—thirsty to gather as much knowledge as she could before their next expedition._

_She was the best in her field, and it was all due to ambition. Did it matter, then, that she was only a half-breed, to put it crudely? As she curled up against her desk, human sounds playing in the air, straining herself to perfect the accent, to learn the words without the help of the Universal Translator, she didn't think so. Her sister had called it an_ obsession, _but she preferred the word fascination though in truth since the team's return from their 5-Earth day stay, it was all she could dream about. The smells, the way the air had almost a sweet taste to it—compared to the pure freshness she experienced on Ambaela—the water, the buildings that seemed to be racing to touch the sky…everything was so_ different_, which was rare in her field. To ambassador across the universe…well, it meant there wasn't much variety. Every modern planet followed the same codes, had similar buildings, laws, even the people weren't too far apart regardless of where you went._

_But Earth was almost like stepping into a Time Machine, seeing a world so far behind the rest. It was the first Primitive Status Planet seen in years, and the humans seemed so simple and wonderfully_…diverse_. She couldn't imagine_ just _spending 20 years learning about the planet. _

* * *

><p>With Jameson officially stepping out of the plan that hardly had a foundation in the first place, Brick was all on his own to rescue the foreign creature he had developed a slight fondness for. It had been ages since he could admit to anything even close to that, in fact, an arm's length distance had never even been enough for him. People were best when you knew next to nothing about them. That way, he believed, another person could never cause you to feel anything you didn't want to. No disappointments, no grief, no frustration. For a long while now it had been important for him to ensure his friends were no different to him than a stranger passing by on the street.<p>

His resolution had been difficult to fulfill at first. His 'Pre-Reformation Years' Brick had much more than just a handful of friends, and when he realized the key to contentment meant stability and that in order to _achieve_ stability, one first had to remove all variables. In laymen's terms, he threw away his last smoke and burnt every bridge he had ever built. He offered no explanation nor did he give any apology, it was as though he had disappeared off the face of the Earth and any fool dumb enough to search for him ended up suffering from third degree burns.

Understandably, as he stood in front of his oldest former friend's home—_was he even sure he still lived here?_ —he was hesitant to knock. Thankfully, it ended up being decided for him as the door was yanked open in front of him.

"Thank God! I am _starving—_who the hell are you?" Interestingly enough, Brick had the exact same question on his mind. The—very pregnant—brunette in front of him looked vaguely familiar, but no name could come to mind, but perhaps he had seen her once in passing years ago. Brick had a knack for remembering faces, even those belonging to people he had never spoken to. She tapped her foot impatiently—she must have been about his age—one hand on her hip and a tired, remotely frustrated look on her face. Unfortunately he couldn't find a valid excuse to his presence, especially since he was clearly at the wrong house. Ah—yes!

"Sorry…I think I have the wrong house, sorry, I mean, I'm looking for someone who must not live here anymore,"

The woman raised an eyebrow, this time taking a moment to look him over.

"We've been living in this house for about 16 years, if that helps,"

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. Just _14_ years ago, Brick was 22—and so was Mitch—the last year they were friends. He took a step back, looking at the 'For Sale' sign, and suddenly feeling entirely confused. The front lawn looked different, sure, a bit nicer than the plain green lawn that was never being mowed, and the driveway didn't look like it was constantly being hit by tiny meteorites.

As if taking a cue, she continues, "Well, my husband has," her tone signifying that if he didn't frighten her, she was certainly incredibly confused. When he still didn't reply, and the distance between them was now large enough that if she had a concern he was planning on stabbing her, it was no longer an obvious threat. With that, she carefully shut the door, and he heard the snapping of locks. He made his way back to his car, figuring the long drive back to the city would be enough time for him to fully grasp the interaction.

The most obvious explanation was one he didn't feel comfortable accepting. Clearly, in the 14 years they had gone without speaking, Mitch had gotten married. He had no reason to, and out of all of Brick's friendships, this one had required the most cruelty, but still the redhead couldn't help but feel his chest sink. If Mitch didn't even dare to extend an invitation to his wedding, which was God knows when (and God knows if they're about to have their first, or second, or third kid) there was no way he would be willing to help.

* * *

><p><em>"Man, what the hell are you doing? Emily says you told her to stop talking to you," Brick stared at his friend coldly, but it did nothing to make him uncomfortable, "and for the record, the beard isn't working for you,"<em>

_ "I didn't want to see her anymore," he said with a shrug, deciding finally to take a step aside and allow Mitch inside._

_"Alright, cool, but you also said some things to her I'm too much of a gentleman to repeat,"_

_At this, Brick briefly broke his stoic expression to smirk—Mitch a gentleman? Unfortunately this was a mistake, as Mitch let down his guard, his shoulders relaxing. Whatever suspicions the guy had about Brick's recent actions were brushed off, placing them away as his friend going through grief. Brick ran his hands through his hair, doing his best to figure out the most efficient way to destroy his final connection._

_"Seriously, Brick, what the hell? You haven't answered my calls in weeks. I almost thought you died or something,"_

_"Not dead," he replied. "Just…" he sighed._

_"I get it," his friend finished for him, sparing him the trauma of explaining. Though Brick wasn't entirely sure Mitch realized exactly _what_ he was planning._

_"I'm just taking some time to myself, man. It's…it's. I don't think we should be friends anymore,"_

_Mitch laughed. The two of them had often joked like that whenever one was hurting, it was their way of telling the other they'd be fine with time. It stemmed from an old friend they used to share, who 'broke up' with the two of them. "Yeah, I need to figure some stuff out," he finished, the usual reply to their inside joke._

_"No…you don't understand. I'm not joking," he said. Whatever tone of voice and combination of expression it was that made Mitch realize he was being genuine, Brick wasn't sure, but his oldest friend's shoulders stiffened once more, his jaw clenching. It was his typical stance before breaking out into a fight, but instead of throwing a punch, he sighed._

_"Brick…man, I know it's been hard, it's been hard for everyone—the hardest for you. But you can't just decide to close yourself off. I _knew_ that's what you've been doing. But it's been two years…you have to keep living. Just because—,"_

_"Mitch, seriously, don't even bother finishing that sentence. It _has_ been the hardest for me. You don't know what it's like to have no one left,"_

_"What the fuck are you talking about? You have me. You had others, before you told them all to fuck off. Sorry, but I'm not so easy to shake off," regrettably Brick was well aware of this. Despite what Mitch may currently believe, it was hardly easy for him to shake him off either. However, he had made a pact. The pain he felt was unimaginable, indescribable and he had no intention to repeat it. Ever. The only way to prevent it from happening again was to make sure his only connection was to himself._

_"Oh, fuck off. Seriously. Get the fuck out of my apartment. You're a shit friend, you've all been shit friends, and I'm done with shit friends," he said, ever so eloquently._

_"We both know that's not true,"_

_"Right? You're irresponsible…you're a druggie, you are practically a part of a mafia, you drink alcohol more than you drink water,"_

_"Stop, man," he said, his voice still soft._

_"Stop, what? Saying the truth? This isn't because I'm _grieving_, and if you can't see that then you really are a fucking idiot. You'll never amount to anything. You're gonna spend the rest of your life living from penny to penny…panicking at the end of the month when you're bills come in and you really think I'm happy to spend the rest of my fuckin' life cleaning up your messes? I'm tired of having people in my life who only hold me back,"_

_"Don't do this, Brick. We've been friends for years. Don't…"_

_"Too long," he said simply._

_"Don't cut me out. Stay,"_

_"Look, I tried to pretend this was all about _her…_" he stopped momentarily, her face being enough to break his act, but he bit back the memory of her like he was swallowing razor blades. "'Cause I didn't want to seem like a dick. But man, I'm fucking sick of you,"_

* * *

><p>Realistically, he wasn't sure how he expected to pan out regardless. True, there was a time when Mitch would follow along with what Brick had planned without need of an explanation, but that was back in the day. Did Brick really expect to be able to show up at his front door and there would be no problem? He had always had an idea that he was out of touch with his social skills, but this was a complete awakening. It was a last ditch effort, really. Mitch had always had friends in high places and if anyone could help, it was him…but that was 14 years ago. If Brick was a completely different person, who is to say that Mitch isn't? In his wildest dreams he hadn't imagined Mitch would <em>ever<em> settle down, and to be married with a child on the way wasn't indication that he was wildly different himself, what was?

Almost as if she was calling out to him from the lab, Blossom's face appeared in his mind. _I think I will not make it much longer_. Brick had become selfish, he knew, but for the first time he knew that regardless of how slim the chance was, he couldn't just drive home and sleep without _trying_ while Blossom withered away—mostly at his fault, too. With that, he pulled the car around, an old confidence pushing him back to the door and lifting his hand back up to knock. This time, there was silence. The TV he could hear before and moments before he knocked was suddenly turned off, and for a minute he believed he had lost his chance. He tapped his fingers against his thighs anxiously, craving a cigarette for the first time in ten years.

"Brandon!" A cry came from inside.

The door whipped open again, but instead of the brunette, there was a small boy—no older than three—and he knew that there was no chance Mitch no longer lived here. The kid was almost his exact duplicate.

"Who're you?" But before he could reply, the brunette came rushing back, picking up the kid and slamming the door in his face.

"If you don't leave I'll call the police!" A shaky voice called through, "My husband is already on his way!"

Brick sighed, feeling guilty for causing so much stress.

"I'm looking for Mitch Mitchelson," again, silence. "Look, I'm sorry if I frightened you earlier, I was just confused…I didn't know who you were,"

"Mitchell and I have been married ten years," she answered, a little less frightened, "how could you not know who I am? I've never seen you before,"

"I'm an…old friend," he said, practically feeling like a liar for using that word, "Brick," and with that she opened the door, Mitch's clone against her hip. She was a bit teary eyed, obviously from fear, but she smiled at him regardless. "Sorry for, uh, freaking out. Just been hearing some stuff on the news…plus pregnancy…" she trailed off, using her other hand to wave it off, "hormones, you know," she said with a sheepish laugh, "I'm Robin,"

"It's alright," he replied, noticing the powerful tone in his voice. Over the years he had hidden his former personality, it was almost like stepping into a different body. "It's my fault, showing up unannounced,"

She moved aside, signaling for him to come in and he followed. "Mitch is held up at work, and I'm seconds from killing him because I'm _starving_, that's why I whipped open the door earlier. I heard a car pull up and I thought it was him—did you know you have the same car?"

He didn't, but he managed to laugh slightly. Their friendship had, after all, started by a mutual affection for cars. She led him into the living room, putting Brandon down and leaving. Brandon sat on the ground in front of him, picking up a small lego pick-up truck.

"It's got rocks to put in it," he said proudly.

"Wow!" Brick replied, "Very cool," he said, smiling. The conversation repeated like this for a few minutes while Brick wondered where Robin went. Brandon sat in front of him, teaching him—endearingly over and over again—how you could put the rocks in the back and then flip them out. Eventually Robin returned, handing him an old, crinkled photograph, before sitting on the couch perpendicular to where he was sitting.

"I thought I recognized you. Sorry for disappearing, I had to rummage around for that," she sighed as she readjusted. "Brick Johnson, right?" She asked. He nodded, a little stiffly, worried that if she knew who he was, then she must also know _why_ it was he wasn't invited to their wedding. "He hasn't said much about you, I guess you two lost touch?"

"Uh, yeah, something like that," he said, keeping the topic short. He looked at the photo, the date written on the bottom right hand corner. _24/06/1996_ and on the back written _Graduation_. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the sight of them garbed in blue robes, Brick wearing his old red hat backwards, Mitch with his black wrist cuff and two of them throwing up 'rock on' signs all the while making a face that can only be described as a poor attempt to look like rock stars. A familiar guitar riff started in his head, and in seconds it was like he was back there, kissing his mom goodbye, jumping in Mitch's truck on their way to the after party…memories of burning out in his basement, ditching class to wait in line for concert tickets, drunken nights, sleepless nights…

Half of things he couldn't believe they did anymore, he was such a changed person. He laughed, for the first time in a while, quietly as he thought of some of their antics. Brick looked up at Robin who seemed mesmerized with her swelling belly. As if noticing he was looking at her she looked up, a bit of a blush on her face. "It's twins," she said with a smile, "so I'm not used to being this big. Brandon was a tiny one," she said, pointing to her kid who was currently preoccupied with his trucks.

"He looks _exactly_ like Mitch,"

She laughed at this, "I know. He knows. In fact, he's convinced _I_ did no work at all," she sighed, "You know, I barely even recognized you. I mean, from the photo. Mitchell's different too, but there's still an, essence I guess, there. You look like a changed man," she said with a laugh, but all Brick could muster was a small, forced smile. She had no idea how true her words were. The mildly awkward moment was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and shutting. Brandon was the first to react, dropping his toys and rushing towards the foyer.

"Dad!" A laugh echoed from down the hall, and Brick suddenly felt like his seat was on fire, choosing to stand up. A small part of him hoped that fourteen years was enough time past, that there was a chance Mitch hadn't held a grudge.

"Babe, don't kill me please, I brought you food!" He walked in to the living room, completely oblivious to Brick's presence—or maybe he just didn't recognize him—instead dangling the food in front of Robin's face and kissing the top of her forehead. Brick now understood what she meant. He was wearing a suit, the tie loosely undone, and a thick watch on his wrist that was awfully reminiscent of the cuff he used to wear. His hair was styled nicely—he assumed because he worked in an office or something, his college degree being in marketing—but still held the old Mitch charm. It was nothing like the rock-hard-no-hair-out-of-place style Brick usually wore.

"No deaths, no deaths!" She said, opening the bag and inhaling deeply, tilting her head up to kiss Mitch on the lips, "Look who's here!" She said excitedly, gesturing to Brick. Whatever happiness and rambunctiousness he carried when he first walked in fell away. The smile dropped instantaneously—in its place a dark frown. Robin looked up at him, perplexed, but sensing there was something deeper to this. Sitting up from her seat, she took Brandon from Mitch's grasp without any sort of reaction from her husband: he was too fixed on Brick. "I'll uh…I'll let you two catch up," she said, giving Mitch a questioning look. Again, it was like he didn't even register her.

"Brandon, let's go to the park, yeah?" She said, brushing the kid's face.

For a minute Brick was convinced the only reason Mitch had yet to speak was because he was feeling the same shock Brick had when he first showed up. However, when a goodbye echoed from the foyer, Mitch took a moment to reply to his wife and son before walking closer to Brick.

"Mitch—," he didn't have a moment to finish before the punch flew across his face. It had been a long while since he'd been in a fight, and the surprise of it flung him against the house.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" He said, panting, rage seething off of him and filling the room with thick tension, "No, scratch that, I don't even know who the _fuck you are_,"

He sighed, "I know I deserved that," he said, standing up again, almost nervous to face him—perhaps one punch wasn't enough.

"You deserve a lot more," he said, stepping back and turning around, running his hands through his hair. "The fuckin' nerve, man? The nerve?" His voice continued to rise in register, repeating himself a few times before turning around, largely calmer than before, "Fourteen years ago you fuck off out of my life after chewin' me the _fuck_ out like some soulless bitch,"

"Mitch, I know…I was…." He trailed off, no words coming to mind. He had a lot he wanted to say before coming here, but most of it was involving _work_, stupidly he hadn't thought of the animosity Mitch clearly held against him. It didn't help that Mitch stared at him, his expression clearly waiting, desperate to hear something that would make up for the past fourteen years. "I was…thoughtless in my treatment of you. You were the greatest friend I had and I cut you out because I had this idea that it would be best that way,"

"Best for who?"

"…For me. I can't apologize enough for what I said to you…how I treated everyone, but most especially you…I'm sorry. And I'm sorry it took me this long to admit I was wrong,"

Mitch was silent for a moment, and Brick hoped he was considering accepting his apology. He had come here initially just to ask for help but had succeeded in taking a trip down memory lane. On some level he could almost laugh—though he wouldn't dare laugh now—Blossom didn't just push him out of his comfort zone. She didn't just make him disobey; she had begun to slowly destroy the delicate equilibrium he had created for himself. Just by being who she was.

"Get the _fuck _out of here man; you didn't even come to my wedding. I gave up on you ten years ago, you piece of shit,"

Now _that_ he did not expect.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, fuck off man. Like I said, I was done with you ten years ago, and I'm done with you now. I already couldn't stand you but to hear you talk like some posh dick with a stick up his ass is grating my skin,"

Brick's jaw tightened—he hadn't realized how different their speech was until he pointed it out—there was a moment when the two of them could barely be told apart by their voice.

"Quit steaming for a second," he said, his voice loud, frustrated now. He was trying to take in what Mitch had just said, and he was getting annoyed at the constant bombardment of insults. Not that they were unwarranted, just that Mitch didn't realize there was something bigger at hand than chewing Brick out: _He invited me?_ His mind tried to trace back ten years, desperate to figure out how it was possible that he missed the invitation. Would he have even gone if he knew? Maybe not, but ten years ago he was still early into creating the life that started to end, little by little, six months ago when he was assigned to Subject X.

In the back of his mind appeared a murky image, an intricate envelop among his piles of bills. At that point, he had gotten into the habit of finding useless mail and discarding it—he must have classified that as useless.

"Shit," he muttered, swearing for the first time in years.

"What now?" Mitch asked, confusion slowing him down since Brick yelled at him to quiet down.

"Mitch…man, I'm sorry. That's it. There's no excuse for what I did. I was an idiot…I didn't even realize you'd invited me to your wedding,"

"You didn't?" He said, calmer now, "Swear on your fuckin' life,"

"I didn't," he repeated. At this, Mitch sat down, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands. Brick took this as his allowance to sit down. There was a thick silence before Mitch burst out in uncontrollable laughter.

"I cannot _believe_," he started, in between laughs, "that this whole time I've been cursin' your name under my breath," he laughed louder, "and you didn't even _know_ I invited you to my wedding. Shit, man. I've been raging pissed at you for ten years,"

Brick managed a small laugh, still feeling too uncomfortable to laugh that hard, "Not fourteen?"

"No, man," he said, looking up, laughter having faded and a serious tone replacing the previous, "No. I mean, yeah, you said some pretty gutty things, but I didn't buy it for a second. I mean I was pissed for a bit, obviously, but…I've known you too long…I knew exactly what you were doing, and I also knew you were—probably still are—too stubborn for anyone to change your mind, even me. It was tough, but I knew it was what you wanted,"

Brick was certain what Mitch said was intended to make him feel better, but somehow it only made him feel worse. All that time—aside from the wedding mishap—Mitch hadn't even hated Brick for the things he said and done to him. He didn't hold any bitter feelings about it, and to hear him say he _understood?_ It made him feel all the worse. It was strange to see how his life has continued since their friendship ended. For Brick the past fourteen years only held minor, insignificant changes.

They spent the next few hours catching up—eventually Robin had returned—and it wasn't long before the two of them were cracking jokes about all the things they had done. By the time night had fallen, the two were sitting on the porch (Robin upstairs bathing Brandon) and a comfortable silence had spread as Mitch inhaled his cigarette.

"I'm glad you stopped by, man. Seriously. It's about time," he said, jabbing Brick with his elbow, "can't believe you're some fancy scientist now. Though you _did_ have a fascination with certain combinations of chemicals in college," he said, waving around his cigarette.

Brick laughed, "God, I guess I did. And you? Executive and still living in this old place?"

"Hey! It's got memories. Plus, we're movin' soon anyway,"

"Guess so. You're going to have your hands full with three kids,"

"Yeah…But what did you want?" He said, raising both eyebrows as he pulled in a drag. Brick stuttered—it didn't feel right to ask him a favour after the day they had. Mitch's response was more laughter, "Brick, man, nothing gets past me, alright? Not w'you. I've known you since before puberty, so fess up. What trouble are you in?"

"…It's…It's not me that's in trouble,"

"Well, go on, tell me what ch'ya need. You're still an old friend…and I've still got old friends,"

* * *

><p>Mitch had taken some convincing. Not that he was hesitant about <em>helping<em>…rather that he couldn't believe there was proof of life on other planets. He didn't ask too many questions, thankfully for Brick, understanding it would just complicate things. According to Mitch he had a few favours left with his old _family_, so in three weeks' time they would stage a brief siege, creating enough distraction for Brick and Blossom to escape. Not only that, but he offered his old safe-house cabin, because the both of them agreed that Blossom would probably need some time to recover before she could return home.

Finally, even though Brick himself hadn't asked, Mitch insisted on getting Brick new documentation…he would easily become public enemy number one otherwise. The next day, even though he wasn't meant to be in the lab then, he couldn't resist telling Blossom—even Jameson, as risky as it was—the good news.

While the hallway had always been quiet, there was an extra silence in the air, and as he reached the padlocked door where Blossom was normally kept he realized why. Boomer sat on the floor, with his head pressed against his knees, looking like a small child.

"Jameson? What are you doing?"

"They're going to kill her, Brick. They extracted nearly half of her blood today and they're going to kill her,"

"When? Why?"

"_Because I've learned all I need to know_," a cold voice called, interplayed with the clacking of heels. Sure enough, as he turned around, Ms. Black—her hair pulled back as usual—and Slick—glaring into his phone, _as usual_—were making their way towards them, "Don't worry boys, you've done an amazing job," she said, though there was hardly any sincerity in her tone. "Especially _you_, Johnson. You'll be seeing quite the fat bonus in your paycheck,"

Even though anger raged through his blood, he managed to reply as normal. "Thank you, Ms. Black. May I ask—,"

"You may not," she replied coldly, continuing her walk down. When he figured the cost was clear, he leaned down to Jameson.

"Jameson," he called, but the man kept his head down, "Boomer, get up!" He said, dragging the blonde up. He slumped back down. Kneeling down he pulled his head up.

"It's disgusting. She's practically a human," he said weakly.

"I know, but listen, I have a plan. I need you to tell me _when_ they're doing it and _where_ they're keeping her. I know you know. I know you're the one who is supposed to euthanize her," at that he teared up, "Jameson, man up!"

"She's in a hidden lab. Where they take all the foreign creatures before they're to be euthanized,"

"Not helpful. _When_ and _where_."

"Next Thursday. Ms. Black's office,"

* * *

><p><em>Over the years in the program, the number of Guardians willing to take the travel had dwindled, many of them preferring to ambassador at home, Earth having lost it's shine for them—at least, Blossom was convinced of this. The truth was, there was unrealized danger in travelling on a Primitive Status Planet. In the very least, one that had been forgotten. Many planets had begun to pull funds for expeditions, neither of them prepared to embarrass themselves universally by labeling it a '<em>dangerous'_ planet. Instead, it was filed away as _uninteresting_. In fact, every country that cancelled the Blue Planet Project had done so under the same reason._

_Blossom's ambition continued to get the better of her, and her love for Earth only grew with each visit. She refused to believe the rumors; not wanting to believe the harmless humans could be the cause of the disappearances. She couldn't see it being possible. She had had her share of negative experiences, sure, primitive means mild danger in thieves and attackers. She was always able to handle herself, and, besides, there was so much more to learn. Despite visiting Earth for nearly twelve-Earth years now, she found there were still more places to visit. More languages to learn. Her presentation for the Government was met with hesitation but eventually they relented. Her typical 3 week stay would be extended to six months, and provided there were no great dangers presented in the time allotted, she would be allowed to continue her research from there for as long as necessary._

_Naturally it broke Gleam and Molly's hearts, with their mother and 'father' (though in truth, her real father had passed as well) gone the sisters had banded together. Guardians already had a stronger bond to blood relations but Blossom firmly believed her sisters were on some different level of connection. Molly understood first—if _anyone_ understood passion it was her—and eventually Gleam reluctantly began to support her mission._

_With a small crew of 3 others—anything bigger would certainly go noticed, Earth's satellite systems improving over the years—she was prepared to begin her longer stay. Entering the gravitational pull, the ship was met with violent turbulence, something that had never happened before, and by the time they reached the atmosphere the ship was spiraling downwards. Her crew braced themselves for impact: the benefit of being a Guardian meant dying unnaturally was incredibly difficult. Sure enough upon landing, while suffering great injuries, they survived._

_Only to be met with gunfire. Her crew prepared to fight—the three of them having heard many nasty things about humans, coming only as a favour to Blossom—but stopped at her orders. She was the only one among them fluent in English._

_ "Don't shoot!" She shouted, and somehow the humans managed to hear, and even stranger, _comply_._

_ "Come out with your hands up!" One of them shouted, "You're surrounded," Blossom glared at her crew, her eyes being message enough: don't. move. She exited as best as she could, hands high in the sky. "What are you? What do you want?"_

_ "I'm not like you…" she began, "But I'm no threat. Right now, I just want to get home," but the soldiers did nothing to move their guns, instead, one of them spoke quickly and quietly—in a language other than English—into a walkie-talkie. After what felt like hours, a black car pulled up into the desert. Out stepped a frightening looking woman—and that was saying something, because the last thing Blossom feared was _humans_—and a chill went down Blossom's back._

_ "Don't be afraid," she said, softly. Everything about her seemed genuine, but still something didn't feel right. "Guns down!" She shouted, immediately they did as she asked. "We were just as frightened as you were. Come with me, we'll get you cleaned up, and we'll figure out how to get you home. Sounds alright?"_

_ "Yes, thank you," she said, smiling, letting her guard back down. "My crew is still in the ship. They don't speak English, should I get them?"_

_ The woman raised an eyebrow, "No…don't worry about them. Just tell them they're safe; my men will take care of them too. Just not enough room for more than one person here,"_

_She nodded, calling out to her crew and explaining what was happening, before following the woman to the dark car. _Who said humans were evil?_ She thought, a proud smirk on her face._

_Almost immediately after she would eat her words. There were a few other soldiered men in the car, and Blossom was instructed to sit closest to the end, while the woman sat at the front._

_ "They'll be fine?" She asked, once more, starting to feel guilt for leaving them behind._

_ "Certainly pose no threat to us," she said, but there was something eerie about the way she spoke. Soon, Blossom understood why. Right before her eyes a series of explosions were directed towards her crew. Guardians were strong, but not invincible. Anyone could die with constant bombardment. Twelve years ago her response would have been instantaneous. She would have wheeled around and killed the enemy before they had the chance to attack her. But she understood now what everyone had feared. Being on Earth so long had made her soft. She gaped at her fallen comrades, distracted, before being sedated. _

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><p><strong><em>AN: _This, friends, is maybe the longest chapter I have ever written ever. For some of you, depending on who you normally read, this may be short. But it is long for me. I'm sorry for disappearing. I, like Brick, have nothing better to say than that. A few more fun facts: Gleam and Molly are loose synonyms of Bubbles and Buttercup! Again, it's an AU, so… ALSO. The guitar riff that 'brings Brick back' is not as the title implies by Nirvana, rather 'Touch Me, I'm Sick' by Mudhoney, if you're interested :). **

**CINNAMONCOKE –** If I'm being completely frank, it's this comment that brought me back. I'm sorry for leaving it there, I really did intend to continue it, life just happens to get away and before I knew it, it had been nearly a year. Hope you're still here and you like the addition :)

**NAGISANEKO –** Again, I'm sorry. Fortunately I didn't leave it. Hope to catch another review from you!

**GUEST –** Again, sorry!

**BLOSSOM JOJO –** Sorry Bloss! But He's gonna break you free! And yep, congrats Bubbles! Buttercup, interesting to see you…hmm…more on that later. Alright guys, calm down.

Violet Lilypuff – This was extremely late! Sorry!

**CHEESE –** It is honestly _amazing_ to hear you say that! I'm glad you think it's unique, that was the goal :).

**READINGISMYIMAGINATIONTHEATER –** Lovely!

**SATORIATPARIS –** Hope this qualifies as way more!

**BLOODREDBATWINGS –** Hope you enjoyed this one, would love to hear what you think!

**KEKE234 –** No worries! I've been there too haha ;D! Glad you liked it, and thank you for reviewing.

**ROCUEVAS –** Thank you! I'm happy to hear it.

**ABUSEGOLDDRAGONRIDERKIRA –** If this chapter gave you Blossick feels, my dear, you have no idea what's in store ;). Sorry for the lack of it here.


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